Arthur Goes Fifth X: Death and the Maiden
by Dead Composer
Summary: Fern's death is not enough to satisfy the Trickster...
1. Enter the Trickster!

November was, to say the last, an _eventful_ time to be a girl and live in the same neighborhood as Arthur Read.

_Muffy_

"In the name of the law, take your hands off that girl!" said Mel Cooper, his angry glare threatening to peel the skin from Ed Crosswire's face. Policewomen Pinsky and Jones stood behind him like a pair of columns, their arms folded.

As the Journey song _Don't Stop Believin'_ played in the background, Crosswire turned to confront his new visitors, his fists slowly clenching as he did. "Of all people, you had to bring Cooper into this," he snarled quietly at his little girl.

"I-I'm sorry, Daddy," said Muffy, her voice barely concealing tears.

The duck-billed lawyer stiffly handed an officious-looking sheet of paper to the other man. "Edward Preston Crosswire, you've been served with a restraining order," he stated. "As of this moment, you're banned from coming within 500 feet of your daughter."

"You have two options to avoid arrest," said Officer Pinsky, as Crosswire bitterly perused the document. "One, you can depart the premises immediately. Two, you can allow Muffy to come with us."

"Three, you can let us arrest you," quipped her partner, Officer Jones.

Squeezing the paper tightly between his thumb and forefinger, Crosswire laid his eyes on Muffy, who squirmed on her bed. "This was _your_ idea," he said accusingly. "You've betrayed me. You're unworthy of the Crosswire name."

"No, Dad," said Muffy, summoning maturity and boldness. "_You_ are."

_Prunella_

Just as her young life began to flash through her mind for the 117th time, she became conscious. The first thing that occurred to her was that a particular spot inside her skull was aching terribly. This came as no shock, considering what she remembered having gone through—the slow journey to the Times Square Hilton through the midst of a ranting mob, the desperate effort to destroy the magical sphere that had possessed the people of Manhattan, and the attempt on her life by a vindictive female unicorn.

She was hungry. Her slightly blurred vision suggested that she was nowhere near a cafeteria, a restaurant, a kitchen, or anything else she could identify. Gripped with a sudden fear, she tried to bolt upright, but found that the rough straps binding her wrists, ankles, and chest made movement impossible.

_I should've stayed at home and let somebody else save the world_, she thought, relaxing her head onto the pillow that was the only comfortable part of the cold platform to which she was fastened.

A blank, glassy visage that she knew too well appeared over her—the helmet of a Thrag soldier. It could be _any_ Thrag, as the spherical head-coverings and the mail-like uniforms rendered them perfectly anonymous. For all she knew it was the Thrag who had rescued her from the stranglehold of Guida von Horstein.

"You're awake," it observed in a flat, tinny voice.

Prunella had many questions, but limited herself to the most obvious one. "Where am I?" Her voice sounded like the croak of a thirsty frog.

"You're in the infirmary," the Thrag answered promptly.

"The infirmary?" The rat girl's heart rate abruptly doubled. "Why? Am I sick?"

"No, you're fine," said the alien, its tone almost reassuring. "It was necessary for our surgeon to extract the electronic implant from your brain."

Panic began to overwhelm Prunella. "My…my brain chip? But…you don't understand…"

"The implant is capable of recording and transmitting images," said the Thrag coldly. "You were present at the altercation between the Thrags and the unicorn people of Earth. We're concerned that the device may have relayed incriminating evidence to another party."

"But without the chip," the rat girl sputtered, "I can't remember anything! I'll lose my memory every time I wake up!"

"Rest now," said the sphere-headed alien. "We'll soon have no more need of you."

_Francine_

The shirtless Mr. Frensky dropped himself onto the couch and grinned smugly. "It's been a whole hour now," he gloated. "I guess your friend Pokey doesn't think his religion's worth defending."

He placed an arm around the back of his daughter, who cringed a bit. _Maybe my dad's right_, she thought, troubled. _I thought Pokey could do anything—he saved me from that kidnapper, after all. But now I see he doesn't even have the guts to stand up to my father. My freakin' father! Was I totally wrong about him…totally wrong about wanting to be a Christian?_

She had no way of knowing it, but the man who called himself Pokey was, at that moment, driving off the highway into the limits of Elwood City. His mind was a swirl of conflicting urges. _I can't believe I'm doing something so foolish. When have I, Jim Polk, ever turned the other cheek when some ignoramus tried to pick a fight? I could turn back, go home, forget about his insults, forget about Francine…_

_Sue Ellen_

"The organization you call the United Nations has been in existence for only sixty years," said the cat woman in the drab blouse and light blue khakis. "On Yordil, however, we've enjoyed global unity for over two millennia, to the point that even the concept of separate nations sounds ridiculous to us. And that, Sue Ellen, is another of the many reasons why Yordilians are superior to Earth people."

"Whoop-de-doo," said the cat girl with the shorn curls. "Somebody call the fire department, 'cause I'm burning with patriotic fervor."

"And that concludes today's indoctrination," said Philippia, snapping her textbook shut. "All hail Yordil."

"All hail Yordil," Sue Ellen repeated, her tone far from enthusiastic.

"I know you're bored with school, dear," said the tutor, her face registering concern. "You're accustomed to the way things are done at Lakewood Elementary—uncomfortable seats, no air conditioning, dozens of other kids competing for the teacher's attention."

_I miss my old school so much_, she thought. "Yeah, who in their right mind would go to a place like that to learn?" she said aloud.

"It's not safe for you, anyway," Philippa went on. "Your former friends still accuse you of selling out your planet."

"Uh-huh," said Sue Ellen wistfully. "Who needs them? Who needs Fern, or Francine, or Arthur, or Buster, or the lunch lady, or…or…"

It was as much as she could do to not cry. _Why won't this nightmare end? How'd I get stuck in this world where the Yordilians won the war, and my parents are the rulers of Earth, and all my friends are now enemies? And to think I was tempted to betray the Doctor, and let the Yordilians win, not knowing I'd end up as miserable as I am now…_

_Sue (Ellen)_

"Good night, honey," said the moose woman, whose scalp was swathed in bandages.

"G'night, Mrs. Krantz," said Sue as she fiddled with one of her long, lush curls.

"I hope someday you'll learn to call me Mom again," said Mrs. Krantz. She switched off the light and shuffled out of the bedroom, her gait clumsy ever since the unfortunate encounter of her head with a falling tree branch.

The cat girl fumed and tossed about underneath her quilt. _The day I call you Mom is the day I've completely forgotten myself_, she thought. _You're nothing but a worm compared to my real mother. I'd give anything to be with her again…to see the Yordilian flag waving in all its glory…_

In less than an instant, she was standing in a zone of complete whiteness, clad in her green dress and red boots. _Okay, this is definitely a dream_, she told herself, _because I know for a fact that I'm wearing my pajamas._

Seconds went by, and the intensely white scenery didn't change. She began to imagine that she was in heaven, or possibly London on an especially foggy day. She had no idea what was holding up her feet, as there was clearly no floor.

"Greetings," a low-pitched voice uttered.

Sue glanced around. "Who's there?" she asked instinctively.

Before her eyes a figure materialized—the figure of a humanlike creature in a black robe, its facial features blurred and inscrutable. The stranger appeared to be slightly more elevated than she was, as if standing on an invisible platform.

"Greetings," it said again, its voice producing no echo. "I am the Trickster."

She had no idea what to make of this announcement. "Uh, nice to meet you," she said stupidly.

"You want to go home," boomed the Trickster, a shadow on its face oscillating as it spoke. "You want to travel between dimensions. I can arrange that."

She pondered the creature's words briefly. "Is that what this is?" she inquired. "Another dimension?"

"Yes," said the Trickster, nodding. "There are many dimensions, one differing from another in very small ways. The dimension you now inhabit is separated from your original dimension by only one factor—your decision to side with my enemy, the Doctor, as opposed to your own people, the Yordilians."

"But that's not what I decided!" the cat girl shot back. "I _hate_ the Doctor!"

"True," said the robed figure. "But due to the carelessness of the boy Clive Stewart, you and your counterpart from the other dimension have exchanged places."

The reality of the unreal situation shot through Sue's mind like an electrical bolt. "Can you…can you send me back?" she asked eagerly.

"Yes, I can," was the Trickster's reply. "But I expect something in return for my favor."

"Name it," said the girl, her hopes rising. "I'll do anything."

The whiteness surrounding her dimmed to a foreboding shade of gray.

"_Choose one of your friends to die_," said the Trickster.

* * *

To be continued 


	2. A Violent Frensky Ensues

_Fern_

The poodle girl flipped channels idly, looking for a diversion that would help to empty her mind of worries. The PBS station was airing _New Moo Revue_. "Yeesh," she muttered to herself. "Mini Moo's new voice is _horrible_."

Her cell phone, lying on a nearby end table, lit up and started to play _Anitra's Dance_ by Edvard Grieg. "That's for _me_," said Fern, almost knocking over the lamp in her haste to answer. "Hello?"

"Hi, Fern, it's Alan," uttered a boy's voice.

_Alan's calling me_, she thought, her heart quivering. _Alan never calls me. Maybe he likes me…_

"Have you heard anything about Prunella?" she asked her friend.

"No," replied Alan. "But I just received a Junior Radiologist kit in the mail, and I thought you might like to put it together with me."

_Omigosh, he's inviting me over_, thought Fern. _All my dreams are coming true…except for the one where my teeth fall out, thank goodness._

"It even includes a toy ultrasound machine," Alan told her. "You can look at a picture of a baby before it's born."

_Now he's talking about babies. He must be really serious about our relationship…_

"What do you say, Fern? It'll be fun."

_Francine_

Just as she was ready to give up hope for the fifth time, a knock came at the door. It was _Shave and a Haircut_, Pokey's secret knock. "It's him!" cried Francine, leaping to her feet.

Mr. Frensky also rose from the couch, his arms tensed by his sides, his lips forming a confident smirk. "Come in," he bellowed.

His wife peered out of the kitchen to see who had arrived. The mottled hound face reminded her of the many times Francine had described her friend's appearance in detail. "You must be Pokey," she said, as if hoping the innocence of her tone would placate her angry husband.

"Hello, Francine," said the visitor. To the ape man with the murderous glare he added, "Hello, Mr. Frensky."

"I'm so glad you came," gushed Francine, barely restraining herself from hugging the man's legs. "I was starting to think you wouldn't…"

Mr. Frensky brusquely swatted the girl aside. "You'd best keep your distance, Frankie," he warned her.

Pokey approached his shirtless foe with an expression of forced calmness. "I thought we might talk this over like civilized men," he said.

"You thought wrong," said Frensky, tightening his fists. "I'll give you a moment to take off your sweater, if you'd like."

Pokey shook his head. "The sweater stays on."

Francine, kneeling on the couch, feared she would burst from excitement. "Knock him out with one punch, Pokey!" she cheered. "I know you can do it!"

"Don't encourage them," scolded her mother. "We can't afford the dentist bill."

The air seemed to drip with testosterone as Frensky and Pokey cautiously circled each other. While Frensky held his fists in a striking position, Pokey allowed his arms to dangle freely.

Then, with a primal grunt, Frensky lunged outward…

_Prunella_

The shape of the buttressed ceiling above her made her think of the inside of a barn. In place of wooden planks there were metal strips, however, and instead of the smell of hay, the rude scent of death. She had sensed it before while creeping past the mound of dead Manhattanites outside the Hilton. _They'll kill me next_, she worried.

Her curious eyes scanned the platform to the right of hers, on which lay a gruesome, prostrate figure with a horse-like nose. _A unicorn_, she realized. _But where's the horn?_ Glancing toward the poor creature's motionless toes, she noticed a slender, pointed object, pock-marked with blood stains, resting on its side.

_That unicorn lady who tried to kill me…she said the horn has wishing powers. What if it's true?_

Clearing her throat, she said to the Thrag in attendance, "Excuse me, Mr. Alien."

The soldier swiveled deftly, pointing its featureless helmet at her. "'Mr. Alien' is an inappropriate appellation," it stated. "Thrags are androgynous."

"Whatever," said Prunella. "Listen, do you see that pointy thing at the foot of the bed over there? What is it?"

The Thrag extended its inhumanly long arm and picked up the spiral-shaped object. "It's some sort of cranial appendage," it said with bemusement. "The surgeon believes it's unique to the unicorns."

Prunella smiled playfully. "Can I hold it?" she requested. "Please?"

The alien bent over slightly, stretching its arm, dropping the horn into the rat girl's waiting fingers without needing to take a step. "I don't see why not," it said simply.

She grasped the cold horn with all her might, channeling her desperation into it. _This had better work, or I'm dead_, she told herself.

"I wish I was back in Elwood City," she muttered.

_Francine_

Pokey appeared a bit dazed after the unexpected blow, but he retained his footing and composure. "Hit him back! Hit him back!" cried Francine, pumping her fists wildly.

"Enough out of you!" shouted Frensky with a menacing gesture. "This man turned you against your family, and now he's getting what's coming to him."

Pokey rubbed his jaw and gave his opponent a pleading look. "Stop this _now_," he said gruffly. "I don't want to hurt…"

Frensky's right fist was upon him again, striking his nose with painful accuracy. He stumbled backwards a few steps, then straightened himself. Blood started to flow from his nostrils as fury built up in his eyes. _Is that all he has? I could knock him down with one hand, the stupid brute…_

"Pokey, what are you doing?" Francine chided him. "Stop taking and start giving!"

"You heard the girl," said Frensky mockingly. "Show me some fighting spirit. Don't give me any of your 'turn the other cheek' crap."

Pokey's face was a mask of rage. "I'm warning you, Frensky," he spoke through swollen sinuses.

Another array of knuckles collided with his face, followed by another. With each blow he found it more difficult to stay upright. _I can't reason with him. The only language he knows is violence. Well, I can speak that language too…_

The queasiness in Francine's stomach grew. _He's not gonna fight back_, she said to herself. _He's gonna stand there and let my dad kill him._

"Stop it!" she exclaimed, pushing herself off the couch.

Pokey gritted his teeth. He felt his knees weakening. _One more punch is all I can take. After that it's an eye for an eye…_

As Frensky readied himself for another attack, his daughter stepped between him and his enemy, her hands stretched out contritely. "Stop hurting Pokey!" she begged. "I'll go back to being Jewish! I won't eat any more hot dogs! Just…stop it!"

_Fern_

She had already started to compose a love song for Alan as she skipped merrily along. _Oh, Alan, you're so smart, you're so smart you stole my heart, oh, Alan…_

_Prunella_

Within a microsecond of having made the wish, she discovered that she was lying on her back underneath a peaceful blue sky. As she sat up, she recognized the gabled houses that stood along each side of her street. Her street, in Elwood City. Elwood City, on Earth.

_It worked_, she thought with relief. _I'm back_. She cast a loving glance at the unicorn appendage in her palm. _I wonder how many wishes I can get out of this baby…_

"I wish I was cured of this memory problem," she said aloud. The pain at the back of her skull dutifully ceased.

She strolled down the sidewalk, waving the horn about in her fingers, dreaming of the spectacular things she would wish for. _World peace…definitely world peace. And eternal youth. But wait…if I wish for eternal youth now, I'll be stuck at 11 years old forever. I'll never have a chance to develop…_

She stopped suddenly…and gasped in horror.

_Francine_

Mr. Frensky yanked the door open. To his dazed guest he said bluntly, "Get out of here and never come back."

As Pokey turned to exit, he gazed one last time at Francine's doleful face. The girl was silent.

"Goodbye, Frankie," he said, and vanished from her sight.

He took slow steps, mopping the blood from his nose with a handkerchief as he left the apartment building. _It was a moral victory, at least_, he thought. _If I'd given way to the devil inside me, that wouldn't have helped Francine at all._

_Prunella_

It was impossible, or at least unthinkable. A Thrag soldier stood on the doorstep of the Prufrock home, and was being invited inside by Rubella herself.

Prunella gave herself over to panic. _They've come for me. I've got to run!_

And run she did. Directly into the middle of the street.

Directly into the path of Pokey's car.

Shocked by the appearance of the rat girl only yards ahead, Pokey hammered the brake pedal with his foot, and twisted the steering wheel to the left. His car lurched about, still moving at over twenty-five miles per hour, and bounced over the curb, careening towards a picket fence and a little poodle girl.

Fern stopped skipping. The vehicle was hurtling at her with inescapable speed. There was no time to scream…

* * *

To be continued 


	3. Fern Dies

_I'll have to use a stool_, thought Rubella as she sized up the uniformed Thrag before her. The arms alone were at least _twice_ as long as hers.

"My visit must remain a secret," said the alien in a hushed voice. "If the other Thrags learn that I'm using cosmetics to enhance my appearance, they'll needle me to death. And I'm not speaking figuratively, either."

"I understand," said the teenage rat girl. "Now, let's get that helmet off so I can see what I have to work with."

The Thrag raised its hands tentatively and started to unfasten the latches that held the sphere in place. "I hope you have a strong cardiovascular system," it warned.

Rubella's curiosity remained unsatisfied, however, as her younger sister burst into the living room, skin pale, tears spraying from her eyes. "Fern's dead!" she wailed again and again.

"Prunie?" said Rubella, taken aback. "Where have you _been?_"

"Fern's dead!" cried the little rat girl, burying her pointed nose in her sister's blouse.

"Never mind Fern," said Rubella. "What about _you?_ I left you in New York. How'd you get home?"

"I'm not joking!" Prunella bawled. "She's really, really dead!"

At a nearby police station, Muffy was debating her future with Mel Cooper and officers Pinsky and Jones. "I'm going to bring a charge of child endangerment against your father," Cooper explained to the girl. "The process may take several months, so you'll need a place to stay."

"I understand," said Muffy. "How about the Ritz-Carlton?"

"Something more realistic, perhaps," said Cooper.

"Motel 6?" Muffy suggested.

"I was thinking you could stay at a friend's house," said the duck man.

Muffy's face brightened. "I'll stay at Fern's," she proposed. "Fern's my BFF."

"What's a BFF?" asked Officer Jones.

"Best friend forever," said Muffy condescendingly. "Don't you know _anything?_"

A crystal-clear voice emerged from the police scanner attached to Pinsky's belt. "We've got an MVA on Sumac Street, LGD with PSI," uttered the male speaker.

Pinsky promptly raised the device to her ear. "Pinsky and Jones OTJ," she said officiously.

Muffy eyed the two policewomen with confusion. "What _are_ you talking about?" she inquired.

"ITYL," said Pinsky, giving the monkey girl a pat on the head. "Jones, LGTFOOH."

As the officers left hastily, Cooper stood up and brushed off his suit jacket. "It's police lingo, Muffy," he explained. "MVA means _motor vehicle accident_, LGD means _little girl down_, and PSI means _possible serious injuries_."

"How do _you_ know all that?" Muffy asked him.

"I'm a lawyer," said Cooper, taking her hand. "Let's go."

More than a dozen local residents had assembled at the grim scene, where Pokey, Prunella, and Rubella took turns gazing miserably at Fern Walters' broken body. She, and a substantial part of the picket fence, had been dragged at least twenty feet.

"She's gone forever," said Prunella solemnly. "I can't believe it."

"She was so young," her sister mused. "So beautiful."

"It's not fair," said Pokey, his voice drenched in bitterness. "She didn't deserve this. _I_ didn't deserve this. Standing up to Oliver Frensky, taking his insults…it was the hardest thing I ever did, and _this_ is how God repays me?"

"It's not your fault, mister," said Prunella through her tears. "_I'm_ the one who ran into the street without looking."

The crowd started to clear as an ambulance arrived, sirens blaring. Mel Cooper followed close behind in his Buick, with Pinsky and Jones taking up his rear. Muffy, in the seat behind Cooper, bit her nails anxiously. "Uh, maybe I should stay here," she said. "I faint at the sight of blood. Heck, I faint at the sight of cranberry juice."

"Have it your way," said Cooper, closing the car door as he departed.

It took a mere five seconds for curiosity to overcome Muffy. By the time she made her way through the mob of spectators, the paramedics had lifted Fern's lifeless frame onto a stretcher. Alarm filled Muffy's heart as the blank-eyed poodle face became recognizable to her.

"Oh my gosh," she exclaimed. "Oh my gosh! Oh my _God!_"

"Not so close, Muffy," said Officer Jones, restraining the girl with a hand on the shoulder.

"No, Fern, you _can't_ be dead!" said Muffy, sobbing violently. "You're my best friend in the world! You saved my space dress!"

Prunella approached her with a comforting embrace. "There, there," said the rat girl.

"I don't believe it," wept Muffy. "First Prunella, and now Fern."

"Yes, we'll miss them both," said Prunella knowingly.

As Alan tinkered with the components of his toy MRI scanner, his father stepped into the room with a somber expression. "Alan, a terrible thing has happened," he stated.

The boy didn't stop running until he reached the accident scene. _Fern dead? It can't be! It can't be!_ he repeated in his mind. Seeing the sorrowful expressions on the faces of Muffy, Prunella, and his other friends, he came to realize that it was indeed true.

_It's my fault she's dead_, he said to himself in his shame. _This is what happens when I try to change the future. I guess I really am doomed to marry D.W._

Attracted by the commotion, Sue walked up alongside the others just as the ambulance doors were closing. "What just happened?" she inquired of Alan.

He turned a pained, tearful face to the cat girl. "Fern's dead."

The news struck her with almost physical force.

_He really did it_, she thought, astonished. _I didn't think he was serious. That evil freak killed my friend!_

* * *

To be continued 


	4. Meeting of the Sues

Sue Ellen's only escape from the nightmarish, inexplicable universe to which she was bound was her daily yoga session. As she rested atop a mat in a lotus position, her mother entered suddenly, holding up a brilliant green dress. The sequins glowed as they reflected the light of the solitary lamp in Sue Ellen's studio.

"That's the most beautiful dress I've ever seen," remarked the cat on the mat. "Who's it for?"

"Why, it's for _you_, silly girl," was Mrs. Armstrong's reply. "It's to replace that drab blue dress. My heart just breaks when I see you in that old thing."

"Mom, you got me the blue dress a _week_ ago," Sue Ellen pointed out.

"A week?" mused the cat woman in the batik gown. "Has it really been that long?"

_I'm gonna turn into Paris Hilton if I stay here_, thought the girl. _My only hope is that weird guy in the robe…assuming he's not really the Grim Reaper._

Her counterpart in another reality, in the meantime, was marching hastily away from the scene of Pokey's accident and Fern's demise. _It doesn't matter_, Sue told herself, her fists tight. _The people in this universe don't matter. That wasn't the Fern I know…it was a duplicate, a forgery. Once I return to my own world, it'll be like she never existed. So…why am I crying?_

Taking a handkerchief, she dried up her eyes and her button nose. _I'm such a sissy_, she said silently. Continuing her trudge towards Mrs. Krantz's house, she was startled to behold a bizarre, yet familiar, figure skulking in the shadows of a juniper bush.

_The Trickster_, she thought, standing in awe of the faceless being. _Only this time, I'm awake._ "I hope you're happy," she said sharply.

"Oh, I _am_," said the Trickster, his voice sounding disconcertingly normal. "Death is my nectar, chaos my ambrosia."

"Ewww," said Sue with a grimace of disgust.

"I admit, it's an acquired taste," said the robed entity.

_I suppose I could join the Resistance_, thought the other Sue Ellen, strolling unhappily underneath a row of Yordilian banners posted near the city hall. _But I don't even know where to find them._ She glanced down at the shiny green dress that draped her body. _Plus, I'm not exactly wearing the right clothes for guerilla warfare._

A dark male voice called to her from inside a storefront: "It's time."

She stopped, gaping nervously at the sign (Stephanie's Jewelry and Coins) and the doorway beneath it. _That's him…the man from my dream!_

The Trickster took gliding steps as he led Sue into the same shop, chuckling quietly as he passed through the exact spot occupied by Sue Ellen in the other universe. The only sound in the place of business was the ticking of clocks and watches, and grunts of exertion from Maria Harris as she rubbed the varnish from a 1971 Eisenhower dollar.

The squirrel woman looked up as the pair of visitors walked in. "Hi, Sue Ellen," she greeted them. "Hi, Dexter."

"Good to see you, Maria," said the Trickster genially.

As he bent over to open a glass case, Sue eyed him with bemusement. "She called you _Dexter_," she noted.

"I have many names," the Trickster explained.

His curled, twig-like fingers grasped a cubical knick-knack and removed it from the display case. "This device," he said, pressing the engraved metal object into Sue's hand, "is called a Quantum Entangler. It's an ancient device of incredible power, left behind on Earth by settlers from a parallel world."

"I honestly don't know _what_ that thing is," said Maria. "It was found in a dumpster outside some place called Torchwood. If you like it, I'll sell it to you for five bucks."

"I'll take it," said Sue promptly. With one hand she cradled the strange cube, and with the other fished out a bill to pay for it.

"Congratulations on your purchase of a Quantum Entangler," said the Trickster. "Now, to open a portal leading to your universe of origin, simply squeeze the Entangler and repeat the words, _Zaddak Zububu Zitherschmitz_."

"Wha…?" said the incredulous cat girl.

"Or, if that's too much of a mouthful," the Trickster went on, "you can use any combination of three words starting with Z."

"Okay, I can do that," said Sue. Wrapping both palms around the object, she took a deep breath and bellowed out the words, "Zebra Zipper Xylophone!"

Nothing happened. "Oh, right," said Sue, befuddled. "Uh…Zebra Zipper…Zapper!"

Just as Sue Ellen was sticking her toe through the jewelry store entrance, everything inside seemed to simply vanish, replaced by what appeared to be the hybrid offspring of a hallway and a lava lamp. _Whoaaaa_, she marveled. _It's like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory._

The opposite side of the ethereal corridor stood in front of Sue, fed by rippling waves emitted by the Entangler in her hand. "So it's a gateway," she said carefully. "I'm on one end, and my world is on the other. Is it really that simple?"

The Trickster nodded. A grin seemed to form on his shadowy face.

Sue grinned as well. "What am I waiting for?"

_What am I waiting for?_ thought Sue Ellen. _Wherever it leads, anywhere's better than here._

"Thanks, Mr. Trickster," said Sue, taking a first tentative step into the corridor. "I wish we could be friends, but, frankly, I'm not nearly as much into _death_ as you are."

Both cat girls crept into the misty passage, their footfalls making no sound. The translucent walls appeared both square and round at the same time. The outlines of the hallway stretched to eternity, yet there was nothing within to be seen.

Nothing…except for each other.

Sue gasped when she laid eyes on Sue Ellen. _It's her!_ she realized. _I mean, it's me! But how can we be in the same place? Shouldn't the universe be exploding right now?_

_There she is_, thought Sue Ellen, glaring at the identical girl with the longer hair. _The other me. The 'anti-me'. The traitor._

_Maybe the universe has already exploded, and we're all that's left_, Sue thought as they neared each other.

_How could she do it?_ Sue Ellen wondered. _We're the same person! How did we end up being so different?_

_What do I say to her?_ thought Sue, locking eyes with her counterpart. _Geez, I'd kill for that dress…_

"Hi," said Sue Ellen to Sue.

"Hi," said Sue to Sue Ellen.

They walked past each other, and suddenly the light of day burst in upon them.

Sue Ellen, scurrying out of the shop where Maria Harris worked, beheld a city center with no Yordilian flags or alien paraphernalia of any kind. _I'm home_, she exulted quietly. _Now all I have to do is wait for my hair to grow back._

Sue, meanwhile, was so delighted by her new surroundings that she felt an urge to goose-step like a Yordilian soldier. _No, that would be too inflammatory_, she thought. _People hate me enough as it is._

She walked slowly and aimlessly past the former Elwood City Hall, now refurbished as a Yordilian re-education facility. Noticing that her fingers still grasped the weird cubical device that had transported her, she thought, _What am I gonna do with this thing? It can only take me to one place, a place I never want to see again. Hmm…_

A polished black limousine pulled off the street and stopped next to her; the driver was Bailey, and the passenger was none other than Mrs. Armstrong. "Mom!" cried Sue with elation.

The cat woman jumped out, her face a mask of concern. "What happened to you, sweetie?" she asked as Sue eagerly embraced her. "Why are you wearing those old rags? Did somebody steal your new dress?"

"I was stuck in the most terrible place," said Sue, tears of relief on her cheeks.

"Tell me all about it, dear," said Mrs. Armstrong, escorting her daughter into the fancy vehicle. "I'll file a report with the Peace Enforcers."

"You do that, Mom," said Sue. Having fastened her seat belt, she rested her curly head on her mother's lap.

All at once, she remembered something urgent. "Mom?" she said, looking up with plaintive eyes.

"What is it, honey?"

Sue took a deep, serious breath. "I have reason to believe that Fern and her family are members of the Resistance."

* * *

To be continued 


	5. Recuerdos de Fern

"Mr. Polk," said Officer Pinsky, holding up a small device with a tube attached, "if you don't mind, I'd like a breath sample."

The floppy-eared man frowned severely. "I'm not drunk," he insisted. "I haven't had a drink in over four years."

"Nobody's accusing you," the policewoman assured him. "It's part of the job."

While Pokey submitted to the breathalyzer test, Officer Jones scrutinized his face. "Those bruises," she remarked. "They're fresh. Were you in a fight?"

"If you must know, yes," said the increasingly peevish man.

"His blood alcohol's very low," said Pinsky, examining the readout on her device. "He's not drunk."

"_Punch_ drunk, maybe," said Jones. Kneeling down with a stick of chalk in her hand, she added, "Mr. Polk, if I could get you to walk along this straight line…"

* * *

"And then they took him away to the police station," Muffy related. "It was the saddest thing. The poor man must feel horrible about what he did."

"What do you think will happen to him?" said Buster, who sat in between Arthur and D.W. in the living room of the Read house.

"They'll take away his driver's license, probably," Arthur theorized.

"And send him to Siberia," D.W. chimed in.

Prunella, Alan, and Muffy gaped at her. "Siberia?" said Prunella, confused.

"D.W., Siberia is where political prisoners were sent by the Communist government of Russia," said Alan intellectually.

"But the Communists are gone now," D.W. responded, "so we can _all_ send people to Siberia. Can't we?"

"Do you even _know_ where Siberia is?" Muffy quizzed the little girl.

"Yeah," said D.W. proudly. "It's that cold place where Santa Claus keeps his toy factories. Whoever gets sent there has to work all day and all night building toys, and the worst part of it is, when Christmas comes around, they get _nothing_."

Prunella shook her head. "That's just ridiculous, D.W."

"This coming from someone who believes in _elves_," said the aardvark girl smartly.

A few seconds of silence went by. "Let's all share our fondest memories of Fern," Muffy proposed.

Buster raised his hand. "For me, I guess it was when I kissed her for the first time," he recalled. "But that was before I found out how gross and icky girls are."

"Girls are _not_ gross and icky," Muffy retorted. "_You_ were inside a girl once, and you liked it."

"Yeah, but she was an _alien_ girl," said Buster.

"Ahem," said Arthur, silencing the others. "My fondest memories of Fern are the times when she sang with our jazz quartet. She had the most amazing voice."

"Yeah, she did," said Prunella. "I always told her she should audition for _American Idol_, but she always said, 'I'll die first.'" The rat girl sniffled. "Now I know what she meant by that."

"I agree with Arthur," said Alan. "I had some great times with Fern and the quartet."

Muffy sighed. "I'll never forget the day when Fern tricked that awful Mr. Gelt by switching my space dress for a bath towel."

Buster lowered his head in sorrow. "Poor Fern," he lamented.

"Poor Fern," said the others in unison.

The reminiscing session lasted fifteen more minutes, after which the kids agreed to meet at the Sugar Bowl for further mourning. As Muffy and Alan strolled along with their arms around each other's backs, Arthur questioned Prunella about her experience escaping from the hands of the Thrags.

"You're aware that you can only get three wishes out of a unicorn horn, right?" said Arthur.

"Only three?" said Prunella thoughtfully. "Crud. What am I gonna do with just _one_ diamond-encrusted Fabergé egg?"

"I can't trust my own father anymore," Muffy complained to Alan. "I don't even know if I'll have the same last name a year from now. To top it all off, my bestest friend ever is dead. What do I have left?"

"You've got _me_," said Alan comfortingly. _Actually, D.W. has me_, he thought.

Mr. Menino had watched Sue Ellen belly up to the ice cream bar many a time, but he had never seen her looking quite like this. "I, uh, don't suppose you take Yordilian currency," said the short-haired cat girl in the fancy green dress.

"_What_ currency?" said the confused old man. Sue Ellen showed him a brass coin on which was engraved an image of a cat woman holding a shield aloft.

Arthur, Buster, D.W., Muffy, Alan, and Prunella were equally surprised by the girl's new appearance when they entered the shop. "What the…" Prunella blurted out. "You hacked off your pom-poms!"

"And you bought an expensive new dress," Muffy marveled.

"And is that one of your foreign coins?" Alan asked her. "Which country?"

"Gosh, Sue," said Muffy, hands on hips. "I know Fern's dead, but you didn't have to be so _drastic_ in your expression of grief."

Sue Ellen's jaw plunged. "Fern's _dead?_"

* * *

To be continued 


	6. Chocolate Seduction

"Fern _can't_ be dead," said Sue Ellen earnestly. "It's against the law for so many bad things to happen in one day, or at least it should be."

"But you were _there_," Muffy insisted. "You saw her. Unless you have an evil twin, that is."

"I _do_ have an evil twin," the cat girl told her.

"Just as I suspected," said Alan confidently. "An anti-Sue from a parallel universe, identical to the Sue Ellen we know except for a single decision that changed the course of her life."

"Not to mention the world," said Sue Ellen. "I helped the Doctor to stop the Yordilians, but she _betrayed_ the Doctor, and that made all the difference."

"All I can say is, it's nice to have _our_ Sue Ellen back," said Arthur.

"Yeah," added D.W. "Auntie Sue was a total jerkface."

"I'd like to know something," Buster quizzed the orange-haired girl. "If there's an anti-Sue, is there also an anti-Buster? If so, what's he like?"

Sue Ellen grinned. "He always got A's on his homework, he read every book he could get his hands on, and he had impeccable table manners."

_Gosh, Fern's dead_, she thought. _Yet I'm so excited about being back in my own dimension, I probably won't start crying until I go to school on Monday and she's not there._

As the hour passed, Alan tried to filter out the noisy conversation and focus his attention on D.W. "So," he said casually to the little girl, "whatcha been doing lately?" _Such a lame way to start a conversation with my future wife_, he thought.

"Stuff," said D.W. with a carefree shrug.

_Let's see, what does she like…unicorns, troll dolls, Justin Timberlake… _"Are you still into unicorns?" he asked stupidly.

"No way," replied the young aardvark. "Unicorns are bad. After seeing all those people get killed in New York City, I ripped up all my unicorn toys. Didn't _you?_"

Alan smiled weakly. "Uh, yeah, I did."

"I still have my trolls," D.W. went on. "Trolls never hurt anybody."

"Yeah, trolls are cool, I guess," said Alan. "Listen, D.W. Have you ever thought much about the kind of boy you want to marry?"

D.W. nodded. "Justin Timberlake," she said without hesitation.

"Okay," said Alan uneasily. "Do you mean a boy who's _like_ Justin Timberlake, or Justin Timberlake himself?"

"Yeah," said the aardvark girl with an eager grin.

Alan stared at the table. _Obviously something will change in the next ten to fifteen years, and she'll become more attractive to me, but right now I'm not seeing it._

"You don't think I'm stupid, do you?" said D.W., suddenly serious. "By the time I'm old enough to get married, Justin Timberlake will already have ten hundred wives."

"All right," said Alan. "Remember when Yo-Yo Ma gave a concert here two years ago? Remember how excited you were?"

"Uh-huh," said D.W. wistfully. "He could really break it down, yo."

"You _loved_ that kind of music," Alan recalled. "It's called classical music, and it was written by Johann Sebastian Bach."

"I _know_ what it's called," said D.W. "Mrs. Frensky lets us listen to it in class sometimes. My favorite classical music is the Taco Bell Cannon, but I also like the Bronze Lullaby and the Carmina Banana."

Alan nodded with satisfaction.

"But I can't marry Bach," the girl continued. "He's way too old, and he's dead, and I think he's already married."

"Well," Alan told her, "some people are making new classical music in _our_ time."

"Yeah," said D.W. "Like Justin Timberlake."

Alan groaned internally. _Forget about music_, he thought. _Try to get her interested in science._

* * *

As the news of Fern's death spread through the community, her heartbroken parents were deluged with sympathy cards and calls from friends expressing their condolences. Again and again the telephone rang, interrupting the grieving process.

"Mrs. Walters, this is Francine Frensky," said the voice on the line. "I was never very close to Fern, but I've written up a little elegy, which I guess I could read aloud at her funeral."

"Thanks for your thoughtfulness, but that won't be necessary," was the poodle woman's reply. "We're going to read the elegy Fern wrote for _herself_."

"H-huh?" Francine stammered.

"It's twenty-six pages long," said Mrs. Walters.

The next caller was Professor Frink. "Getting over the death of a loved one can be very difficult, with the denial and the anger and the bargaining and the sweet, sweet acceptance. Although my interest in your daughter was of a purely scientific nature, with the poking and the prodding, I can assure you with a certainty of 99.98 that Fern is now in a happier, or at least more _oblivious_, place, bla-hoyven. Frink out."

Another call followed, but Mrs. Walters heard only silence.

"Go ahead, Buster," said Bitzi encouragingly. "Say something."

The rabbit boy, a look of helplessness on his face, folded up his mother's cell phone with a sigh of resignation. "I can't think of anything to say," he admitted.

"Come now," said Bitzi, who was holding hands with Mr. Haney on the principal's love seat. "Don't you know what to say when someone dies?"

"Of course I do," said Buster. "AAAAAAUUGHH! SOMEONE'S DEAD!"

It was a slow, solemn evening at Haney's house. Buster, bored with the small talk exchanged between his mother and the principal, wandered into the den to spend time with his new friend, Scrunchy the bodyguard. The pig man, so tall that he appeared to be standing even when seated on the couch, was lazily watching a new cartoon series called _Phaedo, the Smartest Dog in the World._

A leash dangled from the hand of Phaedo's owner. "Let's go for a walk, shall we, boy?" he said playfully.

"My existence as a dog is unbearable," was Phaedo's glum response. "Please euthanize me."

Buster plopped down next to the hulking man. "Wanna play video games?" he said with forced enthusiasm.

Scrunchy shot him a quick smile. "You're so much better than me," he said. "You'd whip my butt."

"We'll play video games, and then we'll arm wrestle," Buster proposed. "Sound fair?"

Buster's ears perked up at the sound of the doorbell ringing. "Who could _that_ be?" he wondered.

"A friend, I hope," said Scrunchy, glancing downward as if to make sure his gun hadn't left its holster.

They heard a few pleasant phrases being uttered, and then Buster recognized the woman with the pointed nose who was mincing in their direction. "That's Rodentia Ratburn," he said with alarm. "Whatever you do, don't let her _teach_ you!"

Scrunchy sprang to his feet before Rodentia had a chance to set foot in the den. "Miss Ratburn," said the bodyguard welcomingly.

A scarlet dress hugged the rat woman's figure. "Hello, Richard," she said in a mildly seductive tone. "I brought some fudge to share."

_Mmm, fudge_, thought Buster, gazing at the plastic container in Rodentia's hands.

"That was kind of you," said Scrunchy. "What flavor?"

"Your favorite," Rodentia answered. "Rocky Road."

They gathered on the couch, Buster in between. While Scrunchy and Rodentia savored one square apiece, Buster stuffed one square after another into his greedy mouth. "I know there's a catch to this," he said with his mouth full, "but…it's so _delicious_."

The next words from Rodentia's cherry lips were, "Buster, would you please give the two of us a minute alone?"

Certain that mushy romantic girl-boy stuff would ensue whether he remained or not, Buster hastily and wordlessly took his leave. Now in the kitchen, he began to search the refrigerator for carrots to stick in his nose. His highly sensitive ears picked up naught but whispers from the den.

Whispers…followed by a sucking sound. _I can't take it anymore_, thought the young rabbit. _I've got to look!_

He expected to see full-on kissing as he peeked around the corner, but what he actually saw startled him even more. Rodentia had indeed placed her hands on Scrunchy's broad shoulders in a fond manner, but the bodyguard, instead of reciprocating, was shrinking away. Furthermore, his face was pale. _Pale_.

"Please go, Miss Ratburn," said Scrunchy, his tone that of a terrified mouse.

"But, Richard…" Rodentia started to plead.

"Just _go_," said the pig-faced man with firmness.

Buster puzzled over the scene as the now-crestfallen Rodentia stood up. _I've never seen Scrunchy like that before. Could it be he's allergic to rats…?_

* * *

To be continued 


	7. Midnight Caller

Once Rodentia had left the principal's house, Buster hurried to the side of his shaken friend. "Hey, what's wrong?" he inquired. "You don't look good."

Scrunchy breathed deliberately, as if fighting to calm himself. "I-I'm all right," he told the rabbit boy. "Just a bit startled, that's all."

"I think I can guess why," said Buster knowingly. "She tried to kiss you, didn't she?"

Scrunchy nodded weakly. "She _did_ kiss me," he admitted. "It wasn't that much of a kiss, but I…I wasn't expecting it."

Buster shuddered with fear. "That's what girls do," he cautioned the man. "They sneak up on you and suck you in with the kissing, and the sweet talk, and the lipstick, and the perfume, and by the time you notice how gross and icky they are, it's too late—you're in love."

Scrunchy responded with a wry smile. "Gross and icky," he said softly. "Yeah, that's right."

"Finally, someone understands," said Buster, and he gleefully punched the pig-faced man's arm.

* * *

Night began to fall upon a difficult day. Sue Ellen returned to the house where she lived with the Krantzes, to see a not-so-welcome face waiting for her. "Hey, good lookin'," said Binky Barnes.

"Uh, hi," said Sue Ellen with more than a hint of uneasiness.

"Relax," said Binky. "Mrs. Krantz explained everything."

Sue Ellen felt a tingle of relief. "Then you know that other girl wasn't me," she said hopefully.

The bulldog boy nodded. "You don't have to be my girlfriend if you don't want to."

The weight lifted from her shoulders, Sue Ellen took a seat on the couch at his side. "Thanks," she said warmly. "You were a crappy boyfriend in the other dimension."

"Wanna watch wrestling?" said Binky, picking up the remote control.

"You know I don't," said Sue Ellen flatly.

Their minds wandered in silence for a few moments. "Binky," the cat girl spoke up, "tell me about some of the things anti-Sue did while she was here."

Binky smiled wistfully. "She was one freaky chick. About all she ever talked about was how Yordilians are superior to humans."

"Ugh," groaned Sue Ellen. "I had to listen to that all the time. Everything about the Yordilians is superior—their literature, their music, even their bathroom habits."

"She was _horrible_ to George," Binky went on. "She called him Nerdgren all the time. And after she got her hands on the magic sphere, she was even scarier."

"Magic sphere?" said Sue Ellen curiously.

"There was this weird round object," Binky related. "It gave you the power to make people obey your commands. D.W. had it, and everybody she touched turned into a zombie, and everybody the _zombies_ touched turned into a zombie too. Then Sue had it, and she told Beat to take a flying leap, and you can guess what happened."

"Oh," said the cat girl. "Is that how she broke her rib?"

Binky nodded again.

Sue Ellen sighed. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised that Fern's dead. With all the fantastical things that happen in Elwood City, I should be surprised that any of us is still _alive_."

* * *

The Crosswire condo included a small room which the family used as an office. Unlike the spacious "war room" of their former mansion, it barely offered enough space for the file cabinets. Ed Crosswire, therefore, was unable to recline his back as he sat, sulking, on an office chair. _If Mel Cooper wants a fight, then by gum, I'll give him one_, he thought bitterly.

Mrs. Crosswire entered after an hour or so of silence. "You look like Achilles in his tent," the monkey woman remarked. "Would you like your dinner now?"

The sullen man shook his head. "I'm not eating one bite of food until Muffy is back with us," he declared.

"Oh, Ed," said his wife flippantly. "Last week you swore you wouldn't eat a bite of food until I changed the bed linens."

"This is different," said Crosswire. "This time, I mean it _more_."

In the bed once occupied by Catherine Frensky, Muffy sighted and giggled. "Right now, he's probably sitting in that horrible chair, with no room to lean back," she speculated. "And he's muttering to himself, 'If Mel Cooper wants a fight, then by gum, I'll give him one.'"

Francine, in the opposite bed, chuckled. "It's déjà vu all over again," she quipped.

"Thanks for letting me crash here tonight," said Muffy to her friend.

"What are friends for?" said Francine.

"Now that Fern's dead," said Muffy grimly, "I guess _you're_ my best friend again."

"Yyyyup," said Francine.

Muffy, clad in light blue pajamas that Francine had loaned her, turned onto her side. "If Fern were still around, I could live at _her_ house," she mused.

"Why not stay with us?" asked Francine.

"Because," Muffy replied, "any day now Catherine and Mitch are gonna show up at your door and say, 'We can't afford a decent apartment. Can we move in?'"

"I'm sure Cath and Mitch will be fine," said Francine. "Mitch should have no trouble providing for her. He's got his own car, after all."

As the girls became drowsy, another question occurred to Muffy. "So, are you all done with the Christian thing?"

Francine yawned briefly and answered, "Yeah. Pokey turned out to be not much of a hero. I expected him to teach my dad a lesson, but instead he just stood there, taking punch after punch."

"It's called 'turning the other cheek'," Muffy told her.

"Whatever," said Francine sleepily.

"It's what Jesus would have done," said Muffy.

"You kiddin' me?" said Francine. "Jesus would've fried my dad with a bolt of lightning."

Francine's dad, at that moment, was in a profound slumber…until the sudden ringing of the telephone yanked him into the waking world.

"It's for you, Oliver," groaned Mrs. Frensky.

He climbed out of the bed, mumbling something about the parentage of a person who would call at such a late hour. Grabbing the receiver, he blurted out, "Hello, who is it?"

"Frensky, this is Jim Polk." The sound of the voice irritated him further.

"Whaddya want, Polk?" he grumbled.

A second of tense silence went by before Pokey answered, "A rematch."

* * *

To be continued 


	8. All in the Wrist

Burning hot coals in his trousers couldn't have made Oliver Frensky more cross. "Forget it," he snapped at the man on the other end of the line. "If you didn't learn your lesson the first time, you'll never learn it."

Pokey's voice oozed with menace. "We're gonna finish this, Frensky. Either on your terms, or on mine." Having said that, he terminated the call.

* * *

Lakewood Elementary, like Emily Dickinson, could not stop for death. Though one of its students was sadly absent, the process of teaching and learning had to continue. Nine students remained in Mrs. Krantz's fifth-grade flock—Arthur, Francine, Buster, Muffy, Sue Ellen, Binky, Beat, George, and Zeke.

"Welcome to class, children," said Mrs. Krantz, who wore a humble black dress that clashed with the white bandage on her head. "Before we do anything, let's enjoy a moment of silence in memory of our departed friend, Fern May Walters."

The kids stared reverently at their desks. A snicker from the back of the room disturbed the peace, prompting the teacher to ask, "Who was that?"

George timidly raised his hand. "I couldn't help it," he told the stern-looking moose woman. "I was thinking of a joke Fern told me once."

An instant after the bell rang, Francine was at the side of Beat's desk. "Mind if I borrow your cell phone?" she requested.

"Of course not," said Beat, handing the device over to her.

"I've been trying to reach my friend Pokey all weekend," said Francine as she speedily dialed a number. "He could use some cheering up after what happened between him and my dad."

"So it's true," marveled the rabbit-aardvark girl, "that your father laid the smackdown on the man who rescued you from that kidnapper."

"You've gotten really good with the American slang," said Francine.

"What part of that was American slang?" said Beat, befuddled.

An expression of chagrin formed on Francine's face. "It's his voice mail again. Where _is_ that man?"

* * *

She had no way of knowing that Pokey was nowhere near his home in West Easthampton. Indeed, the man with the mottled face was seated in the cabin of her father's garbage truck, a fact which triggered no small amount of outrage in Mr. Frensky when he suddenly discovered it.

"_You!_" he growled, one hand gripping the large steering wheel. "Get out of my truck!"

"_Make_ me," said Pokey, his unworried demeanor hiding a murderous disdain.

The two men froze in their positions, Frensky glaring hatefully at the annoyingly nonchalant Pokey. "I just killed a little girl who never lifted a finger to hurt me," Pokey finally said. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't do the same, or worse, to _you_."

Frensky clambered onto the seat, his fiery gaze unbroken. "I told you to get out," he grumbled. "Do I have to knock you around again?"

"Be my guest," said Pokey.

Swearing under his breath, Frensky made a fist with his right hand and sent it flying in the direction of Pokey's nose. The dog-faced man, however, made a quick motion with his arm and wrapped his fingers tightly around his foe's wrist.

And then he _squeezed_.

Frensky felt as if his hand was caught in a threshing machine. Blades of pain sliced through his bones and muscles. "Stop…stop it!" he babbled in agony.

Pokey didn't relax his hold. "I spent two years in prison with nothing to play with but a pair of squeeze balls," he related. "I can break a man's neck with my hands, and I _did_ once, when a fellow prisoner became violent."

"Let go of me!" cried Frensky, his teeth firmly clenched.

"I only want to hear two words out of you," said Pokey, leaning forward with daggers in his eyes. "You know what those two words are."

Unfortunately for his wrist, Frensky chose to say the wrong two words: "(Bleep) you!"

* * *

To be continued


	9. The Phantom of the Girls' Locker

At one of the school's display cases, Alan was hanging a garland of hand-picked flowers below a large photograph of Fern. _If only I could light some candles_, he said to himself, _but that would be against the fire code._

Through the corner of his eye he noticed D.W. strolling in his direction. _She's coming this way_, he thought. _I'm not sure if knowing who I'm going to marry is a blessing or a curse. I suppose I'll find out soon enough._

"Whatcha doing, Alan?" the aardvark girl asked him.

"I'm putting up a memorial," he replied with a smile.

"What's a memorial?" was D.W.'s next question.

"It's something that helps you to remember," said Alan.

"Oh," said D.W. "You mean, like, state capitals and stuff?"

"No," Alan explained to her. "This memorial will help us to remember Fern, so she'll live on in our hearts."

"There's no one living in _my_ heart," said D.W. maturely. "But there _are_ little people living in my ears. Sometimes they whisper things to me."

"Whatever," said Alan. "Say, have you ever played chess?"

D.W. shook her head. "Don't like chess."

"Why not?"

"It's too hard," said the little girl. "How am I supposed to remember that the king can move only one square at a time, the queen can move any number of squares in any direction, the rook can move any number of squares horizontally or vertically, the bishop can move any number of squares diagonally, the knight can move two squares in one direction and one square in the other direction, and the pawn can move two squares forward on its first move, or one square forward, and it can capture diagonally? I'm only six years old!"

_Not bad_, thought Alan. "If you come to my house after school, I'll teach you how to play chess," he offered.

"Um, I don't know," said D.W., shifting the sole of her shoe.

"It'll be great," said Alan excitedly. "You'll rise through the ranks and become a grand master. You'll be the next Deep Blue."

As D.W. pondered Alan's proposal, a strange, low voice uttered to her, "Go to the girls' locker room."

"Okay, forget about chess," said Alan. "We'll play Scrabble. I'll teach you all the words that have a Q without a U."

"Uh, I gotta go, Alan," said D.W. "The people in my ears are whispering again."

The aardvark girl scampered away. _Great_, thought Alan. _She's schizophrenic. Oh well, maybe they'll find a cure for that in the next ten years._

The bell rang for the beginning of classes, but D.W. was undeterred in her race to the locker room. She found it empty, as no one met there during the current period. _Okay, I'm here_, she thought, tiptoeing toward the showers. _What now? Is there a surprise?_

A whisper in her left ear said, "I've got a secret."

"Oh, I _love_ secrets," said D.W. with glee.

The tiny voice moved to her right ear. "What I'm about to tell you, you mustn't tell anyone—especially not the Yordilians."

"Huh?" said the puzzled girl. "But the Yordilians are all gone. They went back to their own planet."

"That's all I needed to hear," said the voice. No longer a whisper, it unmistakably belonged to another little girl.

_I know who that is_, thought D.W. Glancing about, she asked, "Where are you?"

As she stared at the row of lockers ahead, a solid image appeared out of thin air. It was a girl with cotton-like hair and floppy ears, clutching a sapphire-hued stone in the fingers of her right hand.

"EEEEK! A GHOST!" cried D.W. in terror.

"Not so loud," said Fern Walters softly.

"Eeeek! A ghost!" D.W. whispered.

* * *

To be continued 


	10. With a Little Help From My Friends

Mr. Walters, dressed in a fine wool suit and checkered tie, showed his wife and daughter the gold ring that had been placed on his middle finger next to his wedding band. "I've been chosen," he said solemnly. "Her name's Petechia, and she'll be moving in on Tuesday night."

"Oh, my God," said Mrs. Walters in horror. "Isn't there anything we can do?"

"Nothing more than we've _been_ doing," said her husband.

"But I don't _want_ another mommy," Fern complained.

"And I don't want another wife," said Mr. Walters. "But it's either that, or prison."

His wife approached him, wrapping her arms around his hips. "I understand if you feel it necessary to…_be_ with her," she said earnestly. "I won't hold it against you."

"Don't talk that way, Doria," said the poodle man. "I won't give in to her. I'll use any excuse."

"In that case, I won't worry," said his wife playfully, "because you're the _master_ of excuses to not have…"

"Hey!" snapped Mr. Walters. "No need to be mean."

_So we're polygamists now_, Fern thought dolefully. _At least the Mormons must be happy._

"But there's good news," said her father. "The Resistance has gained two new members."

"That's wonderful, dear," said Mrs. Walters. "Who are they?"

"They're right behind me." He stepped aside, and a pair of faces familiar to Fern appeared through the doorway. One was her classmate, Zeke England. The other was…

"Oh, gosh, not _him!_" the poodle girl blurted out.

"Why not?" Zeke asked innocently.

"Yeah, why not?" said his father, Mr. England. "I hate the Yordies more than you _ever_ will."

Fern glared at the scruffy Pomeranian man. "You and your friends are nothing but trigger-happy fanatics," she said angrily. "I still remember when you crashed Mickie's party. You could've _killed_ somebody."

"Take it easy now," said Mr. England defensively. "Don't pop a vein. My pals and I were only trying to correct an injustice."

"Please don't argue, Fern," said Mr. Walters. "Elbert's a wizard with a shotgun, and I'm sure he'll be very useful to the Resistance."

"I don't like him," Fern protested. "He charged into a crowd of kids, shooting in all directions."

"That was all calculated," said Mr. England. "It was never our purpose to hurt anybody—I just wanted to get my son back."

"Relax, Fern," said Zeke. "You're never safer than when my dad's standing nearby with a gun."

"Aren't the Chanels worried about you?" Fern chided the pom boy.

Zeke shrugged. "They don't care anymore. They're too busy making business deals with the Yordies."

Her objections falling on deaf ears, Fern retreated to the couch and switched on the TV. A Yordilian movie, complete with English subtitles, was airing. She had learned in school that Yordilian cinema was divided into two main periods, pre-Plague and post-Plague. Pre-Plague movies tended to be escapist fantasies, while post-Plague movies consisted mainly of probing existential dramas and chick flicks. She could tell that the current movie was a post-Plague movie, as the male roles were filled by female actors.

The doorbell rang. "Fern, will you please get that?" called her mother from the dining room.

She marched to the door, glanced through the peephole, and gasped. Standing impatiently on the doorstep was a cat girl with short curly hair, clad in a standard-issue Yordilian uniform. _This isn't good at all_, she thought.

"Mom! Dad!" she cried out. "It's Sue Ellen!"

A panicked hubbub ensued. "She mustn't see you!" said Mrs. Walters to Mr. England, who promptly led his son through the back entrance.

Once the house had quieted down, Fern opened the door to let in her former friend. "What do you want?" she inquired.

"I want to talk to you," was Sue Ellen's grim reply. "Alone."

"Uh, okay," said Fern, fearful of what might happen if she refused.

Having alerted her parents to the situation, she led Sue Ellen into her bedroom and closed the door tightly. "All right," she said, sitting atop her desk, "what's it about?"

Sue Ellen promptly produced from her pocket a tiny, engraved cube. "Listen very carefully," she said, very little warmth in her tone. "This device is called a Quantum Entangler. It will transport you to an alternate Earth free of Yordilian control. To open the portal, simply squeeze the cube and say out loud three words that start with the letter Z."

Fern shook her head. "Say _what?_"

"Take it!" snapped the cat girl, extending her hand. "I killed you once before, and I can't bring myself to do it a second time."

Hesitantly, Fern reached out to take the cube. "I still don't understand," she said, curiously scrutinizing the images drawn on the object.

"Then I'll spell it out," said Sue Ellen. "The Peace Enforcers know that you and your parents are part of the Resistance. They'll be here to arrest you at any second. I've told them all about your stone of invisibility, so they've armed themselves with body heat sensors. Your only hope of escape is to activate the Entangler and flee through the portal."

Fern began to sweat. "You," she said with malice. "_You_ turned us in."

"It's too late to help your parents," said Sue Ellen as a dreadful knocking sound was heard, "but you can still save yourself." After the knocking came the noise of the front door being violently forced open.

"Why…?" said Fern, astonished and desperate.

"Not Y, _Z_," said Sue Ellen hastily. "Now _go!_"

* * *

"And that's how I ended up in this dimension," Fern explained to D.W.

"Omigosh," said the aardvark girl in wonder. "What's gonna happen to your mom and dad?"

"I don't know," was Fern's anxious reply. "Something terrible, I'm sure. Chernobila, the head of the Department of Peace Enforcement, is a totally evil woman. She makes videos of prisoners being tortured and puts them on YouTube."

D.W. grimaced. "I'm just glad you're not dead."

"I never _was_ dead," Fern told her. "The other Fern—_your_ Fern—is dead. I'm the person she would be if the Yordilians had won."

"What are you gonna do now?" D.W. wondered.

Fern put on a confident grin. "With the Quantum Entangler, and my invisibility stone, and maybe a little help from my friends, I'm going back to rescue them."

* * *

To be continued 


	11. Muffy Has Two Mommies

In the cafeteria, those of Muffy's friends who weren't fondly recalling their good times with Fern were helping the monkey girl to decide on a temporary home. "We've got space at my flat if you'd like to stay," offered Beat, who was enjoying lunch across from her.

"No offense," said Muffy, "but I've seen your flat, and you _don't_ have space. What would I do, sleep on a stack of your mom's discarded drafts?"

"What about my place?" said George. "Now that Jenny's gone back to her planet, my sister has an opening for a roommate."

"That's nice of you," said Muffy, "but I'm not sure what your folks would think, you having been my boyfriend and all."

"How about…" Arthur began to say.

"Forget it," Muffy interrupted. "Three kids, a dog, your grandpa, and a bun in the oven."

"I'm sure Nigel and Carla Ratburn would be glad to put you up," Alan suggested.

"Called them already," Muffy told him. "Carla's about to have her baby, so they're really busy. I guess they're gathering twigs or something."

"Wish I could help you," said Buster, "but with the divorce, and Petula crying all night, I don't think you'd get much sleep at my place."

"Our extra bedroom's being treated for mold," said Binky. "I've been sharing a room with Mei Lin for a week now."

"Mrs. Krantz's house?" Sue Ellen proposed.

"I am _so_ not living with my teacher," said Muffy. "I don't know how you do it."

"Your old mansion has plenty of extra rooms," said Alan. "Have you asked Mickie if…"

"Forget _that_," Muffy cut him off. "Too many things that remind me of my dad."

"You could try Mavis," was Alan's next suggestion. "After all you've done for her…"

"I _did_ try Mavis," said Muffy. "Her dad came up with a dozen excuses. I guess he associates my family with the Mafia now."

"The Coopers?" said Alan helpfully.

"No way!" Muffy objected. "Kids out the wazoo. I'll bet they could have another baby and not even know the difference."

"Well, _I'm_ out of ideas," said the bear boy.

"What about _your_ house, Alan?" Francine chimed in.

He nearly choked on his macaroni. _My house? Muffy and I, only one room away from each other? What if we fall in love? What if the same thing happens to her that happened to Fern?_

"Alan, this is Houston," said George, waving his fingers in front of the boy's face. "Alan, come in."

_It's no use_, he thought. _Besides D.W., I can never let another girl into my life. She'll only get hurt._

"You wanna know the truth?" Muffy addressed the group. "The truth is, my experience has left me with enough daddy issues to keep a psychotherapist employed for two lifetimes. What I would _really_ like is to live in a home _without_ a father."

_What a relief_, thought Alan.

"A single woman, then?" said Beat. "Jean Stiles? Angela Ratburn?"

"Both good suggestions," said Muffy, "but Jean's busy with her Mary Moo Cow show, and Angela's having a tough time holding down a job."

"Why not _two_ mothers?" said Francine.

The other kids shot her surprised looks.

"Seriously," she went on. "Fern has a friend named Wyatt Holberg, who lives with a lesbian couple."

"Really," said Muffy, intrigued.

"He's a very nice guy," Francine told her. "Great singing voice. And he's gay, so you wouldn't have to worry about him coming on to you."

"I remember Wyatt," said Binky. "He's a good kid, if you're into that sort of thing."

"Do you have his phone number, Francine?" Muffy asked her friend.

When the meal and the conversation were over, Alan wandered away to his locker to collect his books. Inside he discovered a folded slip of pink stationery. Opening it, he began to read, and his jaw dropped further with every word. _It's not possible_, he thought. _But it's definitely her handwriting._

On the note was written, MEET ME BEHIND THE FENCE AT LUNCHTIME. FERN.

Buster, in the meantime, was leaning over for a drink of water when his rabbit sense warned him that Rodentia Ratburn was nearby. _I mustn't make eye contact with her_, he told himself. As he turned around, he realized it was too late—Rodentia was making eye contact with _him_.

"Can I talk to you for a minute in the principal's office, Buster?" the rat woman requested.

_I'm marching to my fudgy doom_, thought the boy as he followed after Rodentia.

* * *

To be continued 


	12. Fern's Excellent Adventure

Seeing Miss Ratburn on the other side of the principal's desk was nothing new to Buster, as the rat lady had filled the position during Mr. Haney's absence. "I'm trying to figure something out," she told the boy. "I asked Herbert to help me, but he's unusually tight-lipped, so I thought I'd turn to you."

"Sure, I'll help you," said Buster cockily, "but I charge by the hour."

"It'll only take a few minutes," Rodentia assured him.

"Could you make it a full hour?" said Buster. "I'm not very good at division."

Rodentia leaned forward, her pointy elbows resting on the desk. "How much did you see of the encounter between me and Richard Tulev?" she inquired.

"You mean Scrunchy?" said the rabbit boy. "He didn't look very well. Maybe he's allergic to rats, or something."

"No, I doubt my ethnicity has anything to do with it," said Miss Ratburn.

"Well, then," said Buster with a smirk, "maybe he just doesn't _like_ you."

_Please, anything but that_, thought Rodentia. "I think there was more to it than simple lack of interest," she mused aloud. "It seemed like a _physical_ reaction."

"Whatever," said Buster. "So why do you need _my_ help?"

"I wondered," replied Rodentia, "if you could find out for me if he has any allergies to certain types of perfume or cosmetics, or if…if…"

"If what?" said Buster restlessly.

"There's one other possibility," said Rodentia, her tone solemn. "Maybe…maybe he suffered a traumatic incident as a child…an incident involving _rats_."

"Oh," said Buster knowingly. "You mean, like, catching the bubonic plague?"

"Right," said the rat woman. "So, will you do it for me?"

"No way," said Buster, his voice suggesting boredom.

Rodentia pulled open the wide drawer of the principal's desk, lifted out a tin of what appeared to be fudge, and set it down in front of the boy's nose. "Mmm," said Buster, sniffing the confection. "Pastrami praline."

"All the fudge you can eat, for a whole week," Rodentia promised.

"Did I say _no way?_" said Buster eagerly. "I meant to say _yes way_. If you make it _two_ weeks, I'll throw in my soul."

* * *

"Let's see if I've got this straight," said Alan, addressing Fern behind the wooden-plank fence surrounding the school. "You're an anti-Fern from a parallel universe, and you came here to escape the Yordilian authorities."

"'Anti-Fern' makes me sound like a bad person," said the poodle girl. "Can't you say 'alterna-Fern', or 'Fern 2', or maybe 'Fernfern', instead?"

"If what you say is true, then you shouldn't be here," said Alan sternly. "The paradox of two Ferns occupying the same quantum reality could negate the principle of existence as we know it, wiping out the entire universe in the process."

Fern shrugged. "I haven't studied science fiction, so I wouldn't know."

"You should at least let Professor Frink examine your device," said Alan, his eyes focused on the metal cube in Fern's palm.

"Maybe later," said Fern. "My parents are in danger _now_. They could face torture, even execution."

"What about your parents in _our_ dimension?" Alan pressed her. "Do they know that you're alive…I mean, that you're here?"

"No," was Fern's reply, "and I'd like to keep it that way. Otherwise, they'll get their hearts broken again when I return to my own dimension permanently."

_She's right_, thought Alan. _Her presence here doesn't change the fact that Fern is gone._

"First things first, though," Fern went on. "The Peace Enforcers are looking for me, and they've got body heat sensors, so I'll need some warm bodies to accompany me when I go to rescue my parents."

"What about Frink?" Alan suggested. "With his high-tech gadgets…"

"Frink would be too conspicuous," said Fern. "Some kids, maybe. Kids wander around Elwood City unsupervised all the time, and nobody bats an eyelash."

"Kids, huh?" said Alan thoughtfully. "_I'm_ a kid. But, aren't you afraid someone would notice that there are _two_ of me?"

"Shouldn't be a problem," said Fern. "Ever since the Yordies took over, the other you almost never leaves his house except to go to school."

Alan gazed wistfully at the sky. _It would be an interesting experience…just the thing to get my mind off of Raymond Mansch._

"Is anyone else you know itching for adventure?" Fern asked him. "Arthur? Francine? Floyd Walton?"

"I'll, uh, ask around," said Alan.

_

* * *

Who will sign up for Fern's Excellent Parallel Universe Adventure? Find out in the next chapter! (P.S. Write reviews!)_


	13. Volunteer Spirit

The lunch break was followed by art class, an opportunity for the kids to express themselves through watercolors. Francine, busy at work on her Leaning Tower of Pizza painting, looked aside briefly and noticed an intriguing image on Binky's canvas. "What's that you have there?" she asked, stepping over to him.

The bulldog boy grinned proudly. "I call it _Self-Portrait with Bandaged Ear_," he stated.

"Why's the ear bandaged?" inquired Francine.

"I dunno," shrugged Binky. "Maybe it's an ear infection."

At that moment Francine heard an earnest voice calling her name. Turning, she saw that her mother had entered the studio. "Hi, Mom," she said glibly.

"Francine, could you come with me, please?" said Mrs. Frensky, visibly shaken.

The matter seemed urgent, so Francine left without so much as washing the paint from her hands. Her mother didn't speak until they were heading away from the school in the family car. "Francine," she said, her hands quivering on the steering wheel, "your father's been assaulted."

"Really?" said the monkey girl. "You mean somebody threatened him?"

"He called from the hospital," said her mother. "His wrist is broken."

"Omigosh," said Francine with a gasp. "That would be assault and _battery_."

"He says it was Pokey who attacked him," said Mrs. Frensky.

A long silence ensued as Francine reluctantly absorbed what she had heard. "P-Pokey?" she stammered. "That can't be true!"

"He thinks Pokey may come after _us_ next," her mother continued. "That's why we left school in such a hurry."

"Dad's _crazy!_" said Francine, her tone insistent. "Pokey's a good Christian…no, he's a _great_ Christian. He wouldn't hurt anybody, even to defend himself. You _know_ that."

"I don't believe it was Pokey either, dear," said Mrs. Frensky. "But whoever the attacker is, he's very dangerous. He told your father he'd killed a little girl."

* * *

"Has anyone seen Francine?" Alan inquired of his friends.

"I haven't," replied Binky. "We were painting together, and then her mom came and grabbed her."

The small crowd, gathered at the same spot behind the fence where Alan had met the parallel Fern, also included Arthur, Sue Ellen, Buster, Muffy, George, and Prunella. "Let's start without her," Arthur recommended.

"Yeah," added George. "What are we starting, anyway?"

"You said you had something incredible to show us," said Muffy with a bit of impatience.

"I _do_," Alan assured her.

"So what is it?" Sue Ellen demanded.

"What if I told you," said Alan ominously, "that I have the power to bring back the dead?"

"_I'd_ believe you," said Buster without hesitation.

"You're talking about zombies, right?" said the bright-eyed Prunella. "My sister turned me into a zombie once."

As Alan opened his mouth to speak, a blunt, unseen voice cut him off: "I am _not_ dead!"

The familiarity of the voice stunned everyone present. Fern suddenly faded into view before them, multiplying their astonishment. "Let me explain…" she began to say.

"It's her!" cried Buster. "It's really her!"

"I see dead people!" exclaimed Muffy.

"We _all_ see dead people," said George.

"Quiet, please!" Prunella urged the others. "Don't anger the spirit!"

"Wait, wait!" said Arthur, waving his hands. "People don't come back from the dead."

"Arthur's right," said Sue Ellen forcefully. "If Fern's here, then that means…_we're dead, too!_"

"Shut it, all of you!" Fern bellowed, and a car alarm went off several blocks away.

Everyone fell perfectly silent, except for Prunella. "Oh, _now_ you've done it," she scolded the others.

"Ahem," said the poodle girl seriously. "I'm not the Fern you know. I come from a parallel universe where Earth has been enslaved by the Yordilians."

Sue Ellen's eyes bulged with wonder. "No kidding! I just _escaped_ from a place like that."

"You _did?_" said Fern, startled. "I was about to ask you why you cut your hair the same way as the Sue Ellen from my dimension."

"That was _me_," the cat girl told her. "Somehow the other Sue Ellen and I got switched. I was afraid I'd be there forever, until the freaky guy in the robe sent me back."

"Freaky guy?"

"_Really_ freaky. Called himself the Trickster."

"Trickster…?" said Alan with interest.

Both Sue Ellen and Fern gaped at him. "You _know_ the Trickster?" said the orange-haired girl.

"Not really," replied Alan. "It's just that many Native American tribes have legends about a trickster god. Some call him Kokopelli, others call him Coyote."

"Is _this_ him?" asked Fern, holding up the engraved cube for her friends to see.

Sue Ellen, peering at the object, noticed an etching of a humanoid figure with a skeletal face and a flowing robe. "That's him, all right," she marveled.

"Eww, put that filthy thing back in its sarcophagus," said Muffy, recoiling.

"The Trickster must've _created_ that device," mused Alan, "which means there must be a trick to it."

"What kind of trick?" Fern asked him.

Alan shrugged. "I'm not sure. Maybe something weird happens to you if you use it too many times."

"I suppose I'll find out," said Fern. "Now, then, who wants to go through the portal into my dimension, and help me rescue my parents?"

"Why do your parents need rescuing?" asked Arthur.

"They're members of the Resistance," Fern told him. "They're trying to free Earth from the Yordies. The Sue Ellen from my dimension turned them in to the Peace Enforcers. If I hadn't jumped through the portal into your world, I would've been arrested too."

"Sure, I'll go," said Arthur.

"Me, too," said George, "as long as there isn't any deadly danger or heavy lifting involved."

"There's no danger," said Fern, "unless you happen to run into Chernobila."

"Who's Chernobila?" inquired Muffy.

"She's the chief of the Peace Enforcers," Fern informed her. "Everyone's terrified of her, and for good reason. She uses methods of interrogation that involve intestinal parasites."

"Uh, I just remembered that I need to trim my antlers," said George timidly.

"You should go, Sue Ellen," joked Buster. "You've been to so many countries, you're probably _immune_ to parasites."

"Absolutely _not_," said the cat girl. "I'm never, _ever_ going back to that horrible universe."

"I'll have to say no," said Prunella to Fern. "My horoscope says I should avoid hazardous trans-dimensional missions today."

"I'm sorry, Fern," said Muffy. "The possibility of getting stuck in your dimension is just too scary. 'Two girls for every boy' is a great system, unless you're one of the two girls."

"What about you, Binky?" said Fern.

"Well," said the bulldog boy hesitantly, "if a wuss like Arthur is going, then I guess I'll have to go too."

"Excellent," said Fern. "Arthur, Binky, I'll see you after school."

* * *

To be continued 


	14. Across the 8th Dimension

What Fern and the others failed to notice was a curious eyeball watching them through a crack in the fence. _Hold a secret meeting without inviting me, will you?_ thought Beatrice Simon as she strained to listen. When the group began to break up, she ran from the scene as quickly as her fractured rib would allow. Pausing at the jungle gym to catch her breath, she pulled her cell phone from out of her dress and whipped it open to make a call.

"Hullo, Mrs. Walters? You may find this hard to believe, but I've just seen an exact doppelganger of Fern…does she have a twin sister you don't know about?...you're right, that _is_ a silly question…I didn't catch the entire conversation, but they said something about a trick…so you may want to be on your guard…you're coming to the school to see for _yourself?_"

* * *

The final bell rang. As the other students packed their books and prepared to relax at home, Arthur, Binky, and Alan met in the center court, preparing mutually for a thrilling and potentially dangerous journey. 

"None of us has ever been to a parallel universe before," Arthur pointed out, "so we have no idea what to expect."

"Yeah," said Binky. "What if their history's totally different? What if it turns out that Britney Spears invented the light bulb and Stone Cold Steve Austin discovered America?"

"That would certainly help _your_ test scores," quipped Alan.

D.W., her book bag slung over her shoulder, strolled up to the trio. "Hey, Alan," she said warmly.

"Hey, what?" the bear boy responded.

"I, uh, changed my mind," said the little girl bashfully. "I _would_ like to play chess with you, if it's okay."

A skyrocket exploded in Alan's head. _She's accepting my invitation! This is just what I wanted!_

"Uh, Alan?" said Arthur. "What's with the dopey grin?"

"_What_ dopey grin?" said the dopily grinning boy.

"And maybe," said D.W., "while we're playing chess, we can listen to some music by Johann Sebastian Bach."

_She even pronounced the name correctly_, thought Alan gratefully.

"We'd better go, Alan," said Binky. "We've got a whole universe to explore before dinner."

_Perhaps I can mold her into the perfect future wife after all_, thought Alan. "Er, ah, yes, D.W.," he stammered. "Come to my house as soon as you can."

"Aren't you coming with _us?_" Arthur interjected.

Alan turned to him and shook his head. "Maybe tomorrow."

"Okay," said Arthur as he and Binky stepped away, "but don't let D.W. fool you. Once she gets you to herself, she'll do nothing but blah, blah, blah about unicorns and princesses and Justin Timberlake and…"

"Will _not!_" D.W. snapped at her older brother.

Seeing that Alan was immovable, Arthur and Binky moved with haste to the location behind the fence where Fern had spoken with them earlier. They had only stood for a moment when the poodle girl materialized before them, invisibility stone in one hand, Quantum Entangler in the other. "Where's Alan?" she inquired.

"Something came up," Binky told her. "He can't make it."

"He's going on a date with my _sister_," said Arthur with obvious displeasure.

His statement left Fern appearing a bit stunned. "Alan…and _D.W.?_" she said incredulously.

"Looks that way," said the aardvark boy. "Ever since you died, they've been spending a lot of time together."

An undercurrent of sadness was evident in Fern's voice as she said, "Let's get started."

"Wait," Binky interrupted. "Just in case we _don't_ save your parents today…you're gonna need a place to crash."

Fern seemed to turn her gaze inward for a second. "I hadn't thought of that," she admitted.

"I'm sure your parents in _this_ dimension would gladly let you spend the night," suggested Arthur.

"Are you bonkers?" snapped Binky. "Imagine how they'll react when…"

His sentence was cut off by a woman's piercing scream.

"Yeah, _exactly,_" said Binky.

Arthur whirled. To his and Fern's dismay, Doria Walters towered over them, her hands clapped over her cheeks as if in ecstasy. Beat stood beside the poodle woman, arms neatly folded.

"Fern, my _darling!_" gushed Mrs. Walters. "Is that really you? Have you come back to us?"

"Ohcrap," Fern muttered.

Mrs. Walters nearly bowled Arthur and Binky over as she lunged forward, arms stretched out. "Let me touch you!" she pleaded.

Fern's image dissolved as she sidestepped the frantic woman. WhileBinky glanced about in search of the now-invisible girl,Arthur and Beat exchanged bitter glares. "What's the idea?" they inquired of each other in unison. This was followed by a chorus of "I asked first!"

"Over here, guys," an unseen voice uttered, prompting Arthur and Binky to walk in the direction of the street. As the bewildered Mrs. Walters looked this way and that, her floppy ears picked up the incantation, "Zither Zodiac Zoology!"

Within three seconds there was no sign, anywhere, of Arthur, Binky, or Fern.

"It's her, I know it!" exclaimed Mrs. Walters, weeping tears of elation. "My little girl's alive!"

"She could be a clone," said Beat flatly, "or even an alien replicant."

"I don't care!" said the overwrought woman. "I'll love her as my very own!"

* * *

_Cut to a scene of Arthur, Binky, and Fern floating and twirling against a background of cerulean blue spirals…_

* * *

Exiting the gateway, the three children discovered themselves next to the exact same street, near the exact same fence, with Beat and Mrs. Walters nowhere to be seen. 

"For a parallel universe, this looks pretty familiar," said Arthur.

"Take a closer look," responded Fern's disembodied voice.

He and Binky did so, observing that a Yordilian banner was planted in each front lawn, and that the plaque above the school entrance had been covered by a large sign which read, _Department of Indoctrination, Lakewood Branch._

"Aww, man," groaned Binky at the sight. "Can we look for the dimension where the sign says, _Lakewood Sports Complex and Water Park?_"

* * *

To be continued 


	15. Lost in Yordilian Space

"We'd better get as far away from the school as we can," Fern advised her companions. "You don't want to be seen by anyone who might recognize you."

As they strolled hastily along the sidewalk, Binky watched a V-shaped formation of green alien fighters zip across the sky, leaving trails of mist. "Those are _so_ cool," he marveled. "If I surrender, do you think they'll give me a free ride?"

"That's exactly what your duplicate said," the still-invisible Fern told him. "It wasn't funny then, and it's not funny now. My parents and I have blown up _five_ of those ships."

"Only five?" said Arthur. "They've got what, like, thousands?"

"Four thousand, six hundred, and three," said Fern, "and that's not counting the ones on Yordil itself."

"How many ships does the Resistance have?" Binky asked her.

"None," replied the poodle girl.

"Then how can you hope to win?"

"This isn't a military struggle," Fern related. "The goal is to destabilize the Yordilian occupation forces through constant guerilla attacks, until they finally decide it's not worth the trouble, and go back where they came from. Didn't you learn anything from the war in Iraq?"

"Sure I did," Binky boasted. "Iraq is the only country whose name ends in a Q. Isn't that amazing?"

Several blocks later they came upon the McCord Street business district, which had changed much from what Arthur and Binky knew. A billboard that had once advertised Sarah Soda now bore the image of a fierce-looking cat woman, alongside the words RESISTANCE WILL NOT BE TOLERATED and a phone number for reporting suspicious activity. A billboard on the opposite side displayed the message, _Yordilian Women Wanting to Get Married—Choose One Before One Is Chosen For You._ Every place of business sported a Yordilian flag waving on a pole, and a few new businesses had sprung up, including a small structure whose sign said simply, EXCHANGE CENTER.

"Geez, life must be tough in this dimension," remarked Arthur. "Yordilians watching everything you do, listening to everything you say…it's like _1984_. The book, not the year."

"I'm glad _I_ don't have to live here," said Binky.

"Your duplicate _likes_ it," Fern told him. "He can't wait to be hitched up with two or three Yordilian girls."

"If I meet my duplicate, I'll clobber him," Binky grumbled.

"Wait a minute," said Arthur. "Doesn't anti-Binky have a girlfriend? What does _she_ think of that?"

"She agrees with the principle of sharing men," replied Fern. "_All_ the Yordilians do, at least publicly. But some day, if they stay here long enough, they'll start to wonder why they have to share their husbands with Earth women, and that'll be the beginning of the end for the human race."

They continued on, Fern walking invisibly between Arthur and Binky, until they reached the entrance to the exchange center. A small stack of propaganda leaflets had been scattered outside (_So I've Been Conquered…What Now?_), and a poster had been attached prominently to the window—a poster featuring a full-color picture of Fern and the word, MISSING.

"What the...?" Binky blurted out. "You're not missing. You're right here, with us."

Fern sighed with discouragement. "This is why I have to stay invisible," she explained. "The Yordies know that nobody wants to see a child's face on a 'Wanted' poster, so they put up 'Missing' posters instead."

"Gosh," said Arthur, looking thoughtfully at the poster. "What'll they do to you if they find you?"

"I don't like to think about it," was Fern's response. "If I were a boy, they'd go easy on me—but since I'm not, they'd probably ship me off to grunt school."

"What's grunt school?" inquired Binky.

"It's where Earth girls are trained to join the infantry," answered Fern. "As far as the Yordies are concerned, an Earth boy's life is worth ten times as much as an Earth girl's life, which is why Earth girls are made to do all the grunt work."

The invisible girl followed Arthur and Binky through the glass doors of the exchange center, stopping at a red line on the floor that stretched from one laser-scan device to another. "What's this thing?" asked Arthur.

"It's a DNA scanner," Fern informed him. "The Yordies have everyone's genetic signatures on file so they can track us no matter where we go. Since your DNA's the same as your duplicate's DNA, you have nothing to worry about—and I'm invisible, so the laser won't detect me at all."

Emboldened by Fern's statement, Arthur stepped between the columns with all the nonchalance he could muster. He heard a quick beeping sound, followed by a dispassionate electronic voice uttering, "Identity confirmed, Arthur Timothy Read, age 10." Binky proceeded afterwards, triggering the same voice: "Identity confirmed, Clark Philip Barnes, nickname Binky, age 11."

They stood at the rear end of a line of several people, leading to a desk where a brown-haired Yordilian woman greeted customers with a scowl. "If this is an exchange center," asked Arthur, "then what gets exchanged here?"

"This is where you turn in your Earth money for Yordilian currency," said Fern.

"All I have in my pocket is two dollars," said the aardvark boy.

"At the current exchange rate," said his invisible companion, "that should get you enough to buy a Tic Tac."

As they waited in the slow-moving queue, a pair of elementary-age cat girls approached them, one holding a glossy magazine open. "I'm _sure_ that's him," said the girl with the magazine, whose flaxen hair was tied up in pigtails.

The other girl, a brunette about Arthur's size, gazed at Binky's face and asked with a hint of trepidation, "Are you…Binky Barnes?"

The bulldog boy nearly swallowed his tongue. "Um…uh…who wants to know?" he stammered.

The pigtailed girl turned the magazine around, showing him the pictures inside. "This _is_ you, isn't it?" she inquired. Much to Binky's surprise and horror, one of the photos was of _him_ wearing an expensive suit and bowtie, holding hands with the short-haired version of Sue Ellen.

"Can I get your autograph?" the brunette said eagerly. "We're _huge_ fans of Sue Ellen and anybody who knows her."

So startled was Arthur that his eyes _and_ glasses bulged. "Huh? Sue Ellen's _famous?_"

"Of course," said the dark-haired cat girl. "Where have you been living, in a cave?"

"What did she do to become famous?" Binky asked the pair.

"What do you mean?" said the towy-haired girl incredulously. "It's not what she did, it's who she _is_. Sue Ellen's got it all—she's cute, smart, talented, rich, and powerful, _and_ she dresses well."

"Generous, too," her friend added. "Once she went to Sunset Boulevard and handed out diamonds to everyone who went by. Some people say she did that to get media attention, but those people are just jealous."

"I heard she's looking for a new BFF," said the other cat girl. "She's _so_ making a mistake if she doesn't pick me."

Arthur anxiously nudged Binky's arm. "I think we'd better get out of here, Jimmy," he whispered roughly.

"You're kinda cute in a nerdy way," the pigtailed girl said to him. "Will you be my boyfriend? You have no right to refuse."

Arthur's mind swirled, desperately seeking something to say. To his relief, an unseen fist crashed into the cat girl's nose, knocking her backwards onto the dingy floor. Taking advantage of the ensuing confusion, Fern grabbed Arthur and Binky by the wrists and dragged them through the doors of the exchange center, not stopping until she and they had reached the street.

"Thanks, Fern," said Arthur, a bit short of breath. "I owe you big time."

* * *

To be continued 


	16. A Game of Chess

"I wonder why Arthur isn't home yet," said D.W., unaware that her brother no longer existed in her universe.

Alan grinned at her as he placed a music CD in D.W.'s toy player. "Wherever he is, I hope he's having as much fun as _we_ are," he said facetiously.

The boy and girl set up the opposing sides of the chess board as Bach's _Toccata and Fugue in D Minor_ began to play. "This music's creepy," remarked D.W. when the opening chords struck her ears. "I think I heard it in a movie about vampires."

"It's not meant to be scary," said Alan. "As you learn more about classical music, you'll come to appreciate the beauty of the harmony and counterpoint, and you'll no longer perceive certain pieces as being 'happy' or 'sad' or 'creepy'."

D.W. gave him a wistful look as she fiddled with one of her black pawns. "You're _so_ smart," she sighed.

Alan blushed. "Thanks, D.W."

"You know what?" said the aardvark girl. "I don't think I'll ever find a boyfriend or husband who's anything like Justin Timberlake. I'm six years old now, and I've never seen _anybody_ in Elwood City who can sing like he does. They just don't grow around here."

"Don't be discouraged," said Alan. "Watch any episode of _American Idol_, and you'll see a _dozen_ guys who are just like him."

* * *

Oliver Frensky looked down at the cast and sling on his arm, and growled quietly. "I won't be able to go back to work for at least a month," he told his wife. "We'll have to make do on your teacher's salary."

"_Pittance_ would be a better word," the monkey woman complained.

"Damn that Pokey," her husband grumbled. "If I'd known he had such a sadistic streak, I would've thought twice about beating him up."

"Don't blame yourself," said Francine, lounging on the rocking chair. "It's my fault for wanting the fight to happen."

Mrs. Frensky gazed sternly at the girl, then at her husband. "I hope you've both learned something from this. Violence doesn't solve anything; it only creates _new_ problems."

As the profundity of her statement echoed through the room, the telephone suddenly rang. "Answer that, Frankie," said Mr. Frensky gruffly.

Francine grabbed the receiver. "Hello, Frensky residence."

"Hi," uttered a woman's voice. "Are your parents home?"

"Oh, hi, Officer Pinsky," said Francine warmly.

"Do I know you?" asked the policewoman.

"No," replied Francine, "but you show up so often, I've come to recognize your voice."

Pinsky chuckled. "I have some good news," she told the girl. "We caught the guy who broke your father's wrist."

"Oh, you did?" said Francine with uncertainty. "That's good, I guess."

"Interesting coincidence," the officer went on. "He's the same man who accidentally struck and killed a little girl a few days back."

"Oh, that's terrible!" Francine remarked. "I guess that's what he meant when he told my dad he'd killed a girl."

"His name's Jim Polk," said Pinsky. "He lives in East Westhampton, or West Easthampton, I can't remember which. Apparently he's been staying at a motel in Elwood City. He says he has no way to get home, since we took away his driver's license."

"I know the man," said Francine. "We're good friends."

"Are you?" mused Pinsky. "That's odd, because he obviously has no love for your father."

"It's complicated," said the monkey girl. "Can I see him? What are the visiting hours at the jail?"

"You're not going anywhere near him," her father snapped. "_None_ of us is."

"Shut up, Dad," Francine blurted out. Into the receiver she spoke, "Pokey must be having a terrible time right now. I only want to help him. Besides, I think I know the girl he killed."

"You're a friend of Fern Walters?" Pinsky inquired.

A chill ran up and down Francine's back. "Yes," she replied.

"Visiting hours at the county jail are Tuesdays and Fridays from 5 p.m. to 7 p.m.," Pinsky informed her.

As Francine hung up the phone, Mr. Frensky made a fist with his good hand. "You're not going," he said with finality. "Jim Polk is out of our lives forever."

"I've got to, Dad," Francine pleaded. "Killing Fern by accident must have caused something inside him to snap. He _needs_ me."

* * *

"If you move your pawn there, I'll be able to take your rook with my bishop," Alan warned his chess partner.

"Don't help me," said D.W. insistently.

* * *

The mood was quiet and tense in the Crosswire Mitsubishi. "I want you to know that your father is doing everything in his power to challenge the restraining order," said Muffy's mother, who was driving.

"I want _you_ to know that I'm not holding my breath," was Muffy's retort.

They turned onto Tilbury Street, where many of Elwood City's high-rise condominiums were located. "I don't understand why you couldn't have chosen a _normal_ family to stay with," said Mrs. Crosswire with concern.

"There's nothing _normal_ about my life," said the cross little girl. "In the space of a year I've witnessed a kidnapping, run away from home, been turned into a gold statue, lived on an alien planet, _and_ been betrayed by my own father."

"Your father cares a great deal about you," Mrs. Crosswire assured her.

"All my father cares about is getting rich again," said Muffy bitterly. "Everything else is secondary, even his own daughter's safety. You were there—you saw it—a hateful old man smacked me across the face with his cane, and my father did _nothing_ to defend me."

"This must be the place," said her mother, pulling the car to the side. "Remember what I told you, Muffy—lesbians are human beings too, and you mustn't judge them. Only God can judge, because he knows what people are like inside. He knows that Misty and Sadie are confused—they _think_ what they have is love, but it's leading them down a path of unhappiness. You're not like them; you'll grow up and marry a wonderful man, and have beautiful children, and make your parents proud."

"Who, me? Judge?" said Muffy, sticking her foot outside of the car. "Without you around, I won't know _how_ to."

* * *

"You're about to lose your queen," Alan told D.W.

"Don't help me!" the aardvark girl exclaimed. "I want to do this by myself!"

* * *

Arthur and Binky looked tired and dejected. Fern was invisible, but they assumed she looked the same way. "That's the _fifth_ police station we've visited," groused the poodle girl, "and we're still no closer to knowing where my parents are being kept."

"I'm hungry," said Binky, jealously eyeing the fast-food restaurants that lined McCord Street.

"So am I," said Arthur. "Can we stop at McDonald's?"

"No, we can't stop at McDonald's," was Fern's firm reply.

"Oh, c'mon," said Binky petulantly. "What's a Big Mac gonna hurt?"

"I told you," said the invisible girl, "we _can't_ stop at McDonald's. See for yourself."

Finding himself underneath a pair of golden arches, Binky proceeded to the entrance—only to discover that it had been boarded shut. A banner attached to the window read, CLOSED INDEFINITELY FOR VIOLATION OF YORDILIAN HEALTH CODE.

"Oh, geez," said the disappointed bulldog boy. "Well, we could try the other McDonald's, next to the theater."

"That's closed, too," Fern informed him. "They're _all_ closed."

Arthur shuddered with fear. "_All_ the McDonald'ses are closed? _Everywhere?_"

"That's right," said Fern grimly.

Horror and hunger welled up in Binky's stomach. "Those monsters," he protested. "They're destroying everything that makes us human beings!"

"Let's go, guys," said Fern, urging him along with an invisible hand. "I'd like to find a pay phone and make a call before going back to your dimension."

"What about your cell phone?" said Arthur.

"I switched it off," said Fern. "The Yordies can track the signal."

Their journey took them past a Chicken Licken outlet with its tempting smells. "That's just what I could use right now," said Arthur, licking his lips.

"Boys," Fern grumbled. "Always hungry, always eating. Fine, we'll stop."

"I'm so hungry, I could eat a whole chicken," said Arthur as he pushed open the glass door.

"I'm so hungry," said Binky, "a chicken could eat _me_, and I wouldn't feel it."

The line at the order counter was mercifully short. Ahead of them stood a white rabbit boy with erect ears, hand in hand with a Yordilian cat girl whose dark hair reached to her shoulders. A few seconds passed in silence, save for the 'breezy listening' music from the speaker system, before they began to realize something that should have been obvious.

"That voice," said Arthur, gazing intently at the long-eared boy in front of him.

"Oh, no!" exclaimed the unseen Fern. "_Buster!_"

The rabbit boy and cat girl whirled around, and Buster Baxter looked upon Arthur and Binky with an expression of wide-eyed horror…

* * *

"Checkmate," said Alan, seizing D.W.'s king.

"Oh, darn!" the little girl lamented. "Alan, why didn't you help me?"

* * *

To be continued


	17. Muffy Meets Wyatt

"What's the matter, Buster?" asked the Yordilian girl in a sweet voice.

"Th-th-they…y-y-y-you…" was all the rabbit boy could say.

"I can explain," said Arthur, hoping to assuage his long-eared friend's terror.

"Don't bother," said Fern, putting an invisible arm around Arthur's shoulders while grabbing Binky's wrist with her other hand. "We're getting out of here. _Zenith Zeppelin Zamboni!_"

A glowing blue corridor appeared in front of the order counter, just long enough to swallow up Arthur, Binky, and their unseen companion. Buster, after taking several strong puffs from his inhaler, took on a normal appearance again.

"Would you mind telling me what that was about?" the cat girl urged him.

The rabbit boy shook his head. "I must be going _crazy_," he mumbled.

The interdimensional gateway dropped Fern, Arthur, and Binky in, of all places, the middle of a Chicken Licken. Glancing around to get his bearings, Arthur saw once again the back of Buster's head nearby. "Hey, we're back where we started!" he exclaimed.

Buster turned around and grinned. "Oh, hi, Arthur, Binky," he said warmly.

Arthur, noticing that the girl standing next to Buster had _substantially_ less hair than the Yordilian lass who had occupied the same spot seconds earlier, started to feel sheepish. "Uh, hi, Buster," he said with a wave. "Hi, Jenna."

For fear of looking suspicious, Fern quickly led the two boys away from the Chicken Licken outlet. "Buster and his fast food," remarked the invisible poodle girl. "That's one thing you can count on no matter _which_ dimension you visit."

"Not so fast, Fern," said Binky, speeding up his gait. "I'm having a hard time keeping up."

"I'm _behind_ you," he heard the girl's voice utter.

"Oh," said Binky, and he promptly slowed down.

"I don't get it," said Arthur once he was confident that Fern was between himself and Binky. "Why were you in such a hurry to get out of there? So we ran into anti-Buster. Big deal. It's not like he wouldn't _believe_ us if we told him we were from a parallel universe."

A few moments of silence ensued, making Arthur wonder if Fern had fallen down a manhole. "Buster heard my voice," she finally spoke up. "He knows I can turn invisible. He could've reported me to the Peace Enforcers."

"Wha…?" said Binky, startled. "Buster? No _way_ he'd rat on a friend. Not for all the milkshakes in the world."

"I'm serious," said Fern, sounding very serious indeed. "Since the Yordies took over, nobody knows who's a friend and who's a spy anymore. You saw the girl he was with—she was _gorgeous_. For all I know, she's a Yordie agent trying to get to _me_ through _him_."

Arthur and Binky stared blankly and incredulously at her.

"Well?" said Fern with an invisible shrug. "You don't think he won her over just by being _himself_, do you?"

* * *

Upon entering the condo where Misty, Sadie, and Wyatt lived, Muffy was taken aback by the sight of a slender poodle woman in a ballet pose, her body and leotard covered with dark green paint. "Wh-what the…" the girl blurted out.

"Exactly the reaction I was going for," said the woman, gradually lowering her heel and arms.

"You're green," said Muffy, astonished. "Not that there's anything wrong with being green, but…_why_ are you green?"

"I'm a performance artist," the painted woman explained with a smile. "In my latest production, I illustrate through movement the life cycle of a blade of grass. So, if you ever see me with green hair, you won't need to ask."

Muffy's eyes scanned the walls of the strange room, on which hung numerous abstract art pieces, most of which hinted at the female form. "Right," she said distractedly. "Whatever you said."

"I'm Misty Holberg," said the woman, extending a hand to the monkey girl. "And you must be Muffy Crosswire."

"Uh, I'm not sure anymore," said Muffy, cautiously allowing the green fingers to envelop her own.

"Sadie's not here right now," said Misty as she pulled a bottle of turpentine from a shelf. "She's in a meeting with her art dealer. If you're hungry, help yourself to whatever you can find in the fridge."

"I'll do that," said Muffy. The kitchen seemed almost normal to her, except for a tray of soil next to the sink with grass growing in it. _Someone's got a grass fetish_, she thought. Opening the door to the refrigerator, she beheld a neatly organized array of health food products—vegetable burritos, sprouted-grain bread, and something called _Soy You Want to Lose Weight_. _Ye gods_, she thought. _This is weirder than the food on Orelob_.

Concluding that she wasn't very hungry, Muffy turned around to find an eager-looking poodle boy looking over her shoulder. "You must be Francine's friend," said the boy. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Wyatt."

"My name's Mary Alice," she responded, "but you can call me Muffy."

"Okay, Muffy," said Wyatt in a tone of familiarity. "It's a shame what happened to Fern. The world has lost a great talent."

"Yeah," said Muffy glumly. "Such a kind soul. Too bad she had to die for nothing—I'm sure she would've laid down her life for any one of her friends." _I see no point in telling him about the parallel-universe Fern_, she thought.

"You have the prettiest hair," remarked Wyatt. "Do you mind if I braid it for you?"

"Um…uh…" said Muffy, surprised by the request.

"I know it sounds strange," said Wyatt. "You see, I have dreams of becoming a hair stylist, but I've never had anyone my own age to work on."

Muffy gave him a perplexed look. "Francine told me that…you're _gay_," she said slowly.

"Uh-huh," said Wyatt with an untroubled nod.

"What are you, ten years old?" Muffy went on. "Isn't that kinda _young_ to know that you're gay?"

"That's what I thought at first," Wyatt related, "but it's pretty obvious to me now. When I see a handsome boy, I just want to melt in his arms…but when I see a pretty girl, like you, my first thought is, 'How does she keep her skin so smooth?', or, 'That dress would _so_ compliment my figure.'"

"Right," said Muffy, not quite believing what she was hearing. _My gosh, he's just like me, only in boy form_, she thought.

"Glad to see you two are hitting it off so well," said Misty, who was rubbing the paint from her arm to restore its fleshy color.

Muffy glanced back and forth between the two. "You look so much alike," she observed. "Is he your _real_ son? Did you, like, have a baby and everything?"

Misty nodded. "Before I understood what I was, I became involved in a hetero relationship," she recounted. "His father and I tried to make it work, but we finally decided we'd both be happier if we broke up. Fortunately, my son won't make the same mistake."

Muffy shook her head. "I hate it when families can't stay together. But what am I saying? My _own_ family's about to crash and burn."

"That bad, huh?" said Wyatt with concern. 

"You have no idea," said Muffy darkly. "Imagine if _your_ dad was so desperate for money that he made deals with the mob, and let mafiosos come into your house and whack you around."

"That's harsh," said Wyatt. "But, hey, I know something that'll take your mind off your problems in nothing flat."

"What's that?" asked Muffy.

"Shopping!" Wyatt proclaimed.

_I don't know what I did to deserve this_, thought Muffy, _but I have died and gone to heaven!_

* * *

To be continued


	18. You're Not My Parents!

_This is not gonna be pleasant_, thought Fern. She knocked on the door, slowly became visible, and waited, breath held, for the storm of confusion to make landfall.

Mrs. Walters came to answer. "Fern, darling, you've come back!" the woman exclaimed, her head seemingly ready to burst from relief and joy.

"Listen to me," Fern tried to say, but her words were squelched by a barrage of tear-drenched kisses.

"Who is it, Doria?" inquired her father, hurrying to the doorway. "Good Lord," was his reaction to seeing Fern. "She's _real_. Down to the last detail, it's _her!_"

"I'm not who you think I am," the poodle girl insisted.

"Whoever you are, you're a miracle," said Mr. Walters elatedly. "Come in, please."

As Fern stepped inside the house she knew so well, she noticed that Mrs. Walters' enthusiasm was starting to chill. "You say you're not really our daughter," said the poodle woman, her voice pained. "Who else can you _be?_"

"Let me explain," said Fern with a sympathetic gaze. "I'm from a parallel universe where the Yordilians conquered Earth, but everything else is mostly the same."

"A _parallel_ universe?" said Mr. Walters curiously. "You mean a universe occupying the same space as ours, created by a difference in quantum states?"

"Something like that," said Fern, collapsing onto the couch with an exasperated sigh.

"In that case," Mrs. Walters mused, "you must have your own set of parents—_copies_ of us—waiting for you to go home."

"Exactly," said the girl. "And that's why I can't replace the Fern that you lost, so don't get any ideas."

Mrs. Walters looked at her husband for a long and longing moment. Turning back to Fern, she asked, "You'll visit often, won't you?"

"Why should I?" said Fern coldly. "I wouldn't even _know_ about you, or this whole universe, if Sue Ellen hadn't given me the Quantum Entangler."

"What's a Quantum Entangler?" her father inquired.

Fern shrugged. "I don't know how it works, only that it creates a gateway between my dimension and this one."

"Interesting," said the poodle man. "In our dimension the aliens lost, but in your dimension they _won_."

"It all came down to a decision Sue Ellen made," Fern told him. "Your Sue Ellen is really nice, but _ours_ is a real piece of work. She betrayed Earth and sided with her own people."

"Wait," said Mrs. Walters, a glimmer of hope in her voice. "If your dimension's so unpleasant, why not live in _ours?_"

"I _can't!_" said Fern, now indignant. "My friends, my parents, the Resistance…they all need me. My parents were arrested by the Peace Enforcers…they could _die._"

"What I'm trying to say is," her mother continued, "we're your parents as much as they are, but we're not in any danger."

"No," said the poodle girl, barely containing her outrage. "_You_…are _not_…my parents."

"Wait a minute, Doria," said Mr. Walters, putting his fingers over his wife's lips. "I understand what she's telling us now. From our perspective, this universe is the only one that matters, and her universe may as well not exist; but from her perspective, _her_ universe is the real one, and _we_ may as well be aliens who look like her parents."

Mrs. Walters' expression suggested that she was struggling to comprehend his words. "What are you saying? That there's another Earth somewhere that's been conquered by aliens, and suddenly it's more important than this one?"

"That's why it's called an Entangler, dear," said her husband. "It _entangles_ one universe with another, so what happens in Universe A is no longer isolated from what happens in Universe B."

"You're scaring me," said Mrs. Walters. "This means that the aliens, if they want to, can come through that…_gateway_…and invade _our_ universe."

"I sure as heck won't let _that_ happen," Fern assured her.

* * *

Having left Fern in capable hands, Arthur arrived at his house to find a chess match in progress between Alan and Fern. "Hi, guys," he greeted them.

"Hi, Arthur," said D.W. with a goofy smile. "We're playing our fifth game."

"Cool," said her brother. "How are you doing?"

"Abysmally," groaned the aardvark girl as Alan captured another of her knights.

Arthur grinned. "Keep using big words like that, and you'll turn into a nerd," he warned her.

D.W. looked seriously at her opponent. "Is that what you are?" she asked. "A nerd?"

"That's what some people call me," Alan replied.

"Oh," said D.W. "In that case, I _want_ to be a nerd."

* * *

"So here's the deal," said Buster, enjoying a drumstick as he sat across a table from Jenna. "Miss Ratburn wants me to find out for her why Scrunchy got all pale and sick-looking after she kissed him. She promised me all the fudge I can eat for a week if I succeed."

"Uh-huh," said the thin-haired cat girl.

"So I figured," Buster went on, "since she was your teacher last year, and you seemed to like her a lot, that you might want to help me help her. Plus you're a girl, so you know all about kissing and stuff."

"Not really," said Jenna. "I've only ever had one boyfriend."

"Yeah," said Buster. "I wonder how Adil's doing. Anyway, I'm willing to split the reward with you two ways. Think about it—half the fudge you can eat for a whole week. Are you with me?"

"Maybe," said Jenna, intrigued. "Doing a favor for Miss Ratburn could be fun. On the other hand, I'm watching my weight, so I don't really need that much…"

"Okay, you can have _all_ the fudge!" Buster blurted out. "I don't know what to do, Jenna. I can't walk up to Scrunchy and ask him why he doesn't like Miss Ratburn. That's the kind of question guys shouldn't _have_ to ask each other."

"Oh, I get it," said Jenna flatly. "You think I can get the job done, just because I'm a girl."

"Well, yeah," said the rabbit boy, nodding.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Buster."

Her look of disinterest made his stomach turn to ice. "What?" he said anxiously. "What do you mean? Are you telling me you're not really a girl?"

* * *

The ecstatic expression on Mrs. Walters' face as she laid a blanket over Fern's chest only filled the girl with concern. "Don't get too attached to me," she said firmly. "I'm going back to save my parents tomorrow, and if things go well, you'll never see me again."

"Yes, dear," said her mother obliviously. "Now have a good night's sleep, and you'll wake up to a steaming hot bowl of oatmeal."

The room went dark as she left. _Good grief_, thought Fern. _She's setting herself up for the biggest heartbreak since Troilus and Cressida._

More curious than sleepy, she slipped out from under the covers and tiptoed to the desk. _I wonder if they threw out any of my stuff after I died_, she said to herself. Opening the top drawer, she noted that its contents were consistent with what she imagined her parallel self would want to have handy. There were books of plays by Tennessee Williams and poems by Walt Whitman, a chain of interlinked paper clips, a stapler, and a well-worn notebook of her own writings. In a shadowy corner at the back of the drawer lay a duplicate of her invisibility stone. Reaching idly for it, she thought, _I don't know what good two invisibility stones would do me…would they make me twice as invisible?_

She seized the stone between her thumb and forefinger, and to her surprise, it snapped and crumbled into a pile of dust.

_What the…?_

* * *

To be continued


	19. DW Is a Nerd

As the kids assembled at Lakewood on Tuesday morning, Buster and Jenna stood anxiously next to the door to the principal's office, awaiting Mr. Haney's arrival. "I still don't understand why you want _me_ to do this," said the cat girl in a rough whisper.

"It's simple," Buster attempted to explain, "You're a girl, so you can ask him questions that would sound weird coming from a boy, and flirtatious coming from a grownup woman."

"Why would they sound weird coming from a boy?" Jenna asked him.

"Er, ah," said the young rabbit, "because if a girl asks a man how many girlfriends he's had, the man'll think she's asking him because she thinks he's handsome…but if a _boy_ asks him how many girlfriends he's had, he'll think that…uh…"

"It's _not_ simple, is it?" said Jenna.

"No, it's not," said Buster, relieved. "It's a boy thing. Very hard to explain."

"Okay," said Jenna. "I'll take your word for it."

Before long the principal appeared, shadowed as always by his bodyguard, the man called Scrunchy. "Hey, Scrunchy," Buster called out.

"Hey, kid," was the towering pig man's reply.

He relaxed into the large, faded wooden chair where he spent most of the school day, and Jenna timidly stepped into the office. "Uh, hello, Mr. Scrunchy," said the girl. "Mind if I ask you some questions?"

The bodyguard put on a wide smile. "Sure, kid."

Jenna glanced down at the words she had written in tiny letters on her hand. "Mr. Scrunchy," she proceeded, "I'll bet a big, strong man like you has had lots of girlfriends."

"I've had a few," he answered curtly.

"Out of the many girlfriends you've had," said Jenna, reciting from her palm, "which one would you pick as your favorite?"

The tall man looked at the ceiling for a few seconds. "Uh," he said, taking his time, "I'd have to pick…Sylvia."

"Next question," said Jenna officiously. "What was it about…Sylvia…that you found most attractive?"

"She didn't ask questions about what I did for a living," replied Scrunchy.

"Okay," said Jenna, remaining in her rigid pose. "Do you have any allergies to certain kinds of makeup or perfume?"

"Heh," the bodyguard chuckled. "You're a nosy one, aren't you?"

_Please don't bring my nose into this_, thought Jenna.

"No, I don't have any allergies to makeup or perfume," Scrunchy told her. "I can wear whatever brand I like."

"Thank you," said the cat girl. "Last question. As a child, did you experience any traumatic events involving rats?"

"Hmm," said Scrunchy pensively. "Well, there was this _one_ time…"

"Tell me about it," Jenna urged him.

"You asked for it," said the hulking man. "Once when I was twelve, my sister Jane was cooking dinner, and she served me a baked rat."

"Eww!" the girl exclaimed. "That's _disgusting!_"

"But the joke was on her," Scrunchy went on. "While she stood there watching, I _ate_ the thing."

"Omigosh," muttered Jenna as contents of her stomach started to flow upwards.

"She never recovered," said Scrunchy, and he chuckled again.

"So," said Buster when he saw his friend exiting the principal's office, "what'd you find out?"

To his surprise, Jenna hurtled past him, running all the way to the girls' washroom.

* * *

The first order of business in Mrs. Krantz's classroom was an announcement from Muffy. "Hi, everybody," said the braided girl, who was wearing a heretofore unseen blue dress. "You're all aware of the trouble I've had with my father, so I won't go into that. You'll be pleased, however, to know that I've chosen to spend some time away from my own family, with some wonderful new friends."

"Cool," remarked George. "Are they aliens?"

"Don't I wish," said Muffy. "No, I'm talking about two very artistically inclined ladies, Misty and Sadie, and Misty's son Wyatt."

"You mean Wyatt, the gay kid?" Binky chimed in.

Muffy seemed to glow. "I mean Wyatt, the nicest boy in the whole word of _any_ persuasion."

"Whoa," said Arthur. "That's saying an awful lot. Is he nicer than even Van?"

"I said nicest _boy_," said Muffy. "Van's an honorary _girl_."

"Tell us more about this Wyatt," Beat requested.

"Sure," said Muffy. Turning to Mrs. Krantz, she asked, "Can I have fifteen minutes?"

The moose woman opened her mouth.

"Thank you," said Muffy. To the other students she reported, "Wyatt went with me to K-Mall last night, to help me pick out a new wardrobe for my new life. I found a red dress I thought was cute, but Wyatt was like, 'No way, it won't look good on you at all, it's too wide around the hips.' And I was like, 'I think I know how to dress myself, thank you.' So I went to the dressing room and tried it on, and I was all, ugh! It made me look like a humongous pair of hips attached to a toothpick! So I put it back, and Wyatt showed me this blue dress, and he was like, 'Try this on, it has the perfect dimensions for you, and it's very stylish.' And I was all, 'Vomitrocious! You have the fashion sense of a _boy_.' But I tried it, just to show him how confused he was, but when I looked in the mirror, I was like, whoa! It was like I'd been _born_ in this dress! Wyatt couldn't have been more right! Now, I ask you, what _other_ boy is capable of a feat like that?"

"Uh…Alan, maybe?" Francine suggested.

"Not Alan," said Muffy haughtily. "He's only _book_ smart."

* * *

In a nearby first-grade classroom, Mrs. Frensky and her charges were noticing a change in D.W.'s conduct. "Here's a tricky word," said the monkey woman with eager glee. "Who can tell me how to spell the word 'captain'?"

D.W. instantly raised her hand. "C-A-P-T-I-N," was her response.

"That's incorrect," said Mrs. Frensky. "Anyone else?"

Nadine's hand shot upwards. "C-A-P-T-A-I-N," she declared.

"Very good, Nadine," said the teacher. "The next word is 'juggle'. Who can spell 'juggle'?"

Once again D.W. was the first to answer. "J-U-N-G-L-E," she trumpeted.

"No, D.W.," said Mrs. Frensky gently. "That's how you spell 'jungle'."

"Oh," said the sheepish aardvark girl. "Well, at least I spelled a _word_ this time."

"I admire your effort," the teacher addressed her, "but why do you have to raise your hand for _every_ question? The other kids deserve a chance."

D.W. shrugged. "I'm a nerd. That's what nerds do."

Her classmates started to giggle. "D.W. is a nerd, D.W. is a nerd," said Tommy and Timmy, chanting and pointing in unison.

"D.W. is a nerd," said Emily, following suit.

"Emily is a copycat," yelled Tommy and Timmy.

"Quiet, children," said Mrs. Frensky, her words doing little good.

"Hey, D.W.," said Tommy mockingly. "You and Alan Powers should get married."

"Yeah," added Timmy. "Then your kids will be little brains."

"And zombies will _eat_ them," James chimed in.

"Actually, that's a very good idea," said D.W. in a sultry tone. "Alan and I have so much in common…it's almost as if we're _destined_ to be together."

"That's _so_ romantic," gushed Nadine. "Do you think Alan could be your…your _soulmate?_"

"Well, duh," said D.W. "I'm not gonna have more than one mate."

* * *

Alan, unaware of D.W.'s designs on his soul, caught up with Arthur and Binky during the class break. "Hey, guys," he hailed them. "Mind telling me what happened when you went into Fern's dimension? 'Cause I want to join you today."

"Good," said Arthur. "We could use your brains. Fern hasn't got a clue where her parents are being held."

"I'll do what I can," Alan assured him. "So, what's it like there? Are the Yordilians benign or malevolent dictators?"

"They closed down all the McDonald'ses," Binky told him.

"Okay," said Alan. "What else?"

"What do you mean, _what else?_" said Binky indignantly.

"Fern seems to think the Yordies…I mean, the Yordilians will take all the men for themselves, and let the human race go extinct," Arthur related.

"What makes her think that?" inquired Alan. "Is there evidence?"

"Well, everybody's got a Yordilian girlfriend now," Arthur continued. "It's like if a Yordilian asks you, it's against the law to say no. Even Buster's got one."

Alan put on an incredulous face. "_Our_ Buster? The boy who thinks females are a menace to humanity?"

Binky shrugged. "Maybe they threatened to starve him."

"So you saw Buster," said Alan, anxious to learn more. "Who else? Did you ever run into yourselves?"

"No," answered Binky. "We were really careful. Meeting Buster was an accident."

"Judging from how freaked-out Buster looked when he saw us," Arthur added, "it's probably a good thing we _didn't_ run into ourselves."

"What do you mean, freaked-out?" Alan pressed him.

"Like he saw a ghost, or something," said Arthur.

Alan thought for a moment. "Why would he react that way?" he wondered. "Why wouldn't he just assume you were Arthur and Binky from his own dimension?"

"I, uh, honestly don't know," said Arthur.

"I agree with Arthur," said Binky.

"Hmm," mused Alan. "Interesting."

* * *

To be continued


	20. Girlophobia

The school buzzed like a hive with activity as classes let out for the day. It seemed especially so to Muffy, who was stung with question after question about the unusual family she was staying with.

"Does Wyatt have a boyfriend?" George asked her.

"Why?" was Muffy's response. "Are you thinking of applying?"

"Aren't you afraid that being around them for so long will turn _you_ gay?" asked Sue Ellen with concern.

"I'm not afraid," said Muffy with a smirk, "but maybe _you_ should be afraid, cutie-pie."

"Your new friends are on their way to hell," Zeke warned her. "According to 1 Corinthians Chapter 6, verses 9 and 10, abusers of themselves with mankind shall not inherit the kingdom of God."

"I've got news for you, Zeke," said Muffy facetiously. "None of us is going to inherit the kingdom of God anyway, because he's leaving the whole wad to _you_."

Elsewhere, Buster and Jenna observed with interest as Principal Haney and his bodyguard, Scrunchy, strolled past. "That Scrunchy is one strange fellow," remarked the cat girl. "He's not afraid to eat a rat, but when Miss Ratburn kisses him, he loses it."

Buster only nodded.

"That reminds me of something," said Jenna thoughtfully. "Did you ever see the movie _Willard_, about the guy who lives with rats?"

"Uh, no," replied the rabbit boy.

"He's not afraid of being surrounded by rats, but when he's surrounded by _women_, it's a problem," Jenna mused. "Maybe that's Scrunchy's problem—he gets shy around women."

"A big guy like him?" said Buster incredulously. "Why should he be afraid of a woman…or _anything_ female, for that matter?"

"I love you," said Jenna with doe-like eyes.

"I'll bet he could beat the crap out of a she-bear," said Buster.

"I want to kiss you," said Jenna, leaning over with her lips outstretched.

"I'll bet he could even…_eeeek!_" cried Buster, recoiling from the girl's oncoming face.

"Why did you do that just now?" asked Jenna as she straightened herself.

"Why did _I_…? Why did _you_…?" stammered the long-eared boy.

"You're just like Scrunchy," the cat girl chided him. "Or maybe I should say, Scrunchy's just like _you_. Most guys outgrow the 'girls have cooties' stage, but what if he's one of the guys who _didn't?_"

"Huh?" said Buster. "I'm not getting you."

"It all makes sense now," said Jenna, finger on chin. "Even his nickname. While other bodyguards call themselves names like Bulldog and Chainsaw, _he_ goes by the name of Scrunchy. He _wants_ the girls to be turned off by his unmachoness. Buster, your friend is suffering from a textbook case of _girlophobia_."

"Girlophobia?" said Buster with a mocking laugh. "You expect me to go to Miss Ratburn with an answer like _that?_"

"That fudge is gonna taste _so_ good," said Jenna, turning to walk away.

"Wait!" cried Buster, and he ran frantically after her.

* * *

"Alan, are we gonna play chess again today?" asked D.W. as she approached the lad in front of the school entrance.

"Not today," was Alan's reply. "Definitely tomorrow. Today I'm going to visit another dimension."

"I know what a dimension is," the little aardvark girl boasted. "It's, like, a place that's in the same place as our place, but we can't see or touch it without special hardware."

_She's coming along more quickly than I expected_, thought Alan with satisfaction.

"I love being a nerd," said D.W. "The other kids make fun of me because they're jealous."

Alan, sauntering away inconspicuously, noticed that Arthur and Binky had already arrived at the appointed corner for their rendezvous with Fern. "Hi, everybody," he greeted the boys. "Hi, Fern, if you're there."

"I'm here," uttered a girl's voice. "I was just waiting for you to show up."

"Is traveling to another dimension anything like a water slide?" Alan inquired. "Because I went down a water slide once, and I threw up."

"It's not like a water slide at all," Fern assured him. "_Zillion Ziggy Zimbabwe!_"

The blue gateway appeared instantly, snatching up Arthur, Binky, Alan, and the invisible girl before they had a chance to exhale. Alan, feeling as if he'd been shaken violently in a blender, was surprised to find that he was still standing. His dazed eyes registered the images of countless Yordilian flags.

"For one thing," said Fern, "there's no water."

"Uuungh," said Alan nauseously. "Can we go back a different way?"

"Nope," said Fern.

A few green-hued fighter craft soared by overhead. "Where are we?" asked Alan, puzzling over the modifications to the elementary school.

"This is Elwood City, Yordie style," Fern informed him.

"Where to now?" said Arthur, rubbing his hands eagerly.

"The public library," replied the poodle girl. "I need to look up something on the Internet."

"What if we see ourselves, or our selves see us?" said Binky warily.

"Not likely," said Fern. "You and Arthur always go to the Sugar Bowl after school, and Alan always heads straight home."

"This is amazing," remarked Alan. "We're in an alternate reality, inhabited by duplicates of ourselves, yet I don't see any rifts forming in the fabric of space-time."

"Don't worry, Alan," said Arthur. "We know what to do if the universe starts unraveling around us?"

"What's that?" asked the bear boy.

"Stop, drop, and roll," said Binky with a silly grin.

The company began to walk along the street in silent awe. "Fern, I have a question," said Alan. "Has anything bad happened lately to your versions of Arthur and Binky?"

"No," the disembodied voice answered. "Why do you ask?"

"Because of the way Buster reacted," Alan went on. "I can understand his surprise if, say, Arthur was hit by a car, or Binky was kidnapped, but otherwise, seeing them standing behind him in the Chicken Licken line shouldn't have come as such a shock."

"As far as I know, they're fine," said Fern.

They kept up their casual gait until the red roof of the library came into view. "Well, _that_ hasn't changed," remarked Arthur.

"Not the outside, anyway," said Fern. "But if you think the posters telling you to READ were obnoxious, just wait."

They had nearly reached the doors when Alan halted. "If it's all the same to you, I'd like to go another way," he stated.

"What do you have in mind?" Fern asked him.

"I want to see for _myself_ that your dimension's Arthur and Binky are all right."

"No!" said Fern with finality. "It's too dangerous. They'll get suspicious if they see two of you."

"I can take care of myself," said Alan confidently. "I'll meet you back here."

Before Fern, Arthur, or Binky could raise further objections, Alan hurried away, disappearing behind the bushes. "I guess if safety was our first concern, _none_ of us would be here," said Arthur.

The three kids stepped through the DNA scanners guarding the library, discovering that the building's walls had been lined with threatening posters. Some bore the standard warning RESISTANCE WILL NOT BE TOLERATED, while others glorified the library's new collection of Yordilian books-on-wafer. "Mmm," said Binky hungrily. "You can read a book by eating a wafer now?"

"It's not that kind of wafer," Fern told him. "Yordie computer systems store data on tiny wafers. They're one-tenth the size of a DVD, and can hold ten million times as much information."

"Would one of those wafers hold my entire collection of downloaded MP3s?" Binky asked her.

"One of those wafers could hold _you_," said Fern.

Alan, in the meantime, resisted the urge to drop in at his own duplicate's house as he made his way to the alternate Read home. He adjusted himself to the sight of a Yordilian banner in every lawn by imagining that it was Flag Day. On another planet.

Even the Reads had put up a flag, and Pal was in the processing of urinating on the pole when Alan arrived. He knocked, uncertain of what he would see, expecting something bizarre beyond comprehension. The door opened. Mr. Read, Mrs. Read, D.W., Baby Kate, and a strange Yordilian woman were all standing inside. Alan noticed only one unusual feature about them.

They were wearing black.

"Come in, Alan," said the pregnant aardvark woman in the doorway. "We don't see you here very often." The worn skin around her eyes suggested that she had been crying.

"Wh-what's wrong?" Alan spoke up. "Why's everybody in black?"

"Haven't you heard?" said Mrs. Read unbelievingly.

"Arthur's _dead_," D.W. blurted out.

Alan's knees turned to water. "Arthur? _Dead?_" he struggled to say. "How?"

"We don't know," answered Mr. Read. "It happened yesterday. He and Binky, at the exact same time…they just _disintegrated_."

* * *

To be continued


	21. Shock! Horror!

The news was too horrible to be true, and for a moment Alan convinced himself it wasn't. "How is that possible?" he asked Arthur's parents. "Was it some kind of alien weapon?"

"I _told_ you, we don't know," said Mr. Read, his voice pained. "They were sitting together in the classroom, and all of a sudden they decomposed. There was nothing left but flesh-colored dust."

"Flesh-colored?" said Alan curiously. "You mean, like the chemical components of the human body after all the water is removed?"

As the parallel Mr. Read searched for a suitable answer, Alan's ears picked up an anguished scream from two blocks away. Turning and straining his eyes, he saw a familiar-looking woman in a panicked state, crying for help from anyone in the vicinity.

"Holy crud, that's my _mom!_" he exclaimed.

"You'd better run and help her," advised Mr. Read.

Alan did so, his feet flying as fast as he could make them. "Mom! Mom!" he yelled, not considering whether his duplicate self was within earshot. After he had cleared a block, to his surprise, his mother ceased her screaming and came charging towards _him_.

"Mom?" said Alan, slowing to a crawl.

Mrs. Powers, a look of ecstatic gratitude enveloping her face, threw her arms around the boy. "Alan, you're alive!" she gushed. "Thank God! Don't _ever_ scare me like that again!"

"Huh?" said Alan, his voice muffled by his mother's dress. "What's going on? Why _shouldn't_ I be alive?"

"You clever, cruel boy," said his mother, backing away slightly. "You _planted_ that pile of dust on your bed, didn't you? You wanted to make me think you'd been vaporized, just like Arthur and Binky were."

The true nature of the situation struck Alan like a runaway train. "Mom," he said nervously, "how long has the pile of dust been there?"

"Only a few minutes, I think," his mother replied. "You mean you _didn't_ put it there? Where did it come from, then?"

_It's all too obvious_, thought Alan, terror threatening to overwhelm him. _Arthur and Binky came here yesterday, and their duplicates died yesterday. I came here today, and my duplicate died just now. That's how the Entangler prevents universe-shattering paradoxes…BY KILLING PEOPLE!_

"I've gotta go to the library, Mom," said Alan, his breath heavy and labored even before he started to run.

Mrs. Powers smiled wistfully as her son sped away from her line of sight. _I've never seen anyone so anxious to learn_, she thought.

* * *

Fern, fearing what the other library patrons would think of a pair of invisible hands typing on a computer keyboard, gave Arthur instructions on what to enter into the Google search prompt. As the aardvark boy prepared to print out his findings, Fern was attracted to a quiet conversation between two youngsters seated at the other computers.

"You're sick, you know that?" said the rabbit girl to the weasel-like boy.

_It's Molly and Rattles_, thought Fern. _I could wedgie them both right now, and they'd be none the wiser._

"At least it's not pornography," said Rattles, waiting breathlessly as a YouTube page loaded.

"But it's against library rules," Molly warned him. "I think it is, anyway. If it isn't, it _should_ be."

The video image on the screen was too murky for Fern to make out, but it elicited a bad feeling nonetheless.

"What's it gonna be today?" said Rattles, rubbing his palms with glee. "The rack? The iron maiden? Electrodes?"

"What kind of a world makes Chernobila into an Internet celebrity?" said Molly bitterly.

_Chernobila!_ thought Fern. _God, anyone but her!_

The video became more illuminated as it played, revealing a dank prison cell in which two hooded figures were bound to a wall by steel shackles. A uniformed Yordilian woman, her hands caressing a shotgun of alien design, stepped into the scene. "Watch carefully, everyone," she addressed the camera in what was more a hiss than a voice. "I'm about to show you what happens to terrorists."

With that, the red-haired Yordilian proceeded to tear the hoods away from her prisoners' faces. "Holy freakin' Jeebus!" exclaimed Molly at the sight.

"You _know_ them?" said Rattles, a bit startled.

"Yeah, I know them," was Molly's indignant reply. "They're _Fern's_ folks."

"Thanks for taking all the fun out of it, fun-taker," said Rattles petulantly. He clicked with the mouse to close the window, but the damage had already been done.

Arthur, as he waited for a print job to complete, heard a dull thudding sound from behind. He turned his head and gasped. To his alarm, Fern was fully visible, stretched out on the library floor, and judging from appearances, quite unconscious.

"Fern!" he cried, jumping up from his chair. To his friend behind the comic book rack he yelled, "Binky, get over here!"

Molly and Rattles looked on as Arthur attempted to revive Fern by gently slapping her cheeks. "Oh, man, there she is," said Molly anxiously. "If the Yordies find her, they'll execute her for sure."

"We can't let that happen," said Rattles with uncharacteristic nobility. "Let's, uh, create a distraction."

"One distraction coming up," said Molly. Rearing back her fist, she delivered a punch directly to Rattles' chin.

By this time both Arthur and Binky were trying to rouse the unconscious poodle girl, each boy forcefully rubbing one of her wrists. "Wake up, Fern! Wake up!" Binky called out in vain.

At this opportune time Alan came rushing into the library. Narrowly dodging Molly and Rattles, who were playfully exchanging blows, he stopped at Fern's feet and declared, "Guys, we've got to go back _now!_"

Arthur and Binky looked up and glared. "We've got a bit of a problem here," Arthur pointed out.

"What happened to her?" Alan inquired.

"I think she fainted," replied Arthur.

"Maybe the air in this dimension's too thin," Binky added.

"Get outta my way," said Alan firmly. As the other boys crouched backwards, he bent over, raised his arm, and brought his hand against Fern's face in a slap that echoed throughout the building.

"Ow!" cried the girl, her eyes popping open.

"Listen, Fern," said Alan, his tone of voice dire. "The Entangler's dangerous. It killed our duplicates. Once you've sent us back to our dimension, you've got to _destroy_ it!"

Fern spoke in a weak and frightened manner, her head bobbing back and forth. "They killed my parents, Alan. Those Yordie butchers…they _killed my parents!_"

"I'm sorry," said Alan coldly. "Now, where's the Entangler?"

"It's here, in her pocket," said Binky, holding up the cube-shaped device.

"How do you activate it, Fern?" Alan pressed the delirious girl.

"Killed my parents," she mumbled. "Yordie butchers…killed my parents…"

To Alan's horror, what appeared to be a Yordilian peace officer walked rigidly into the library. "Everyone freeze!" she barked, but Molly and Rattles disregarded her order, slugging each other with abandon.

"Fern, snap out of it!" shouted Alan, but the girl barely managed to focus her eyes on him.

"Wait," said Binky, rolling the Entangler with his fingers. "She said some magic words. What were they? Zillion…gajillion…zigzag…zombie…Zimbabwe…"

The interdimensional gateway reappeared, instantly catching the attention of the Yordilian soldier. Driven by desperation, Arthur, Binky, and Alan succeeded in dragging the limp-limbed Fern into the portal mere seconds before the imposing officer reached their position.

Alan glanced around. To his immeasurable relief, there were no Yordilians to be seen, nor were any propaganda posters hanging on the library walls. _We're safe_, he reassured himself. _Now we can end this._

"Unnh," grunted Fern as Arthur and Binky pulled up her arms, helping her to stand.

"Are you okay, Fern?" Alan asked her.

"No," replied the girl, her legs wobbling. "No, I'm not okay at all. My parents are dead, Alan. They're _dead!_"

"Quiet, please," said Paige Turner from the other side of the reference desk.

As the poodle girl sobbed onto his shoulder, Alan could only stand still and silently cry along with her.

* * *

To be continued


	22. Not Going Back

Arthur, Binky, and Alan remained mostly silent as they escorted the distraught, tearful Fern to the home of her other-dimensional parents. Mrs. Walters, true to form, went out of her way to make the girl comfortable.

"I didn't know," said the sorrowful young poodle, a mug of hot cocoa in her hand, four layers of blankets covering her body. "If only I'd known that the Entangler kills people, I never would've used it. Now I've lost not only my parents, but three of my best friends."

Alan put on a comforting smile. "There's no way you could have known," he stated. "When you came through, _our_ Fern was already dead."

"And the Sue Ellens must've both gone through the portal at the same time," Arthur observed.

"It's scary to think about," said Binky. "If my duplicate had come to our dimension first, _I'd_ be dead now."

"And it's not just people, but objects," said Fern. "Because I brought my invisibility stone with me, the stone in _this_ universe turned to powder."

"Maybe it's impossible to travel to a parallel universe without some kind of horrible side effect," mused Alan. "On the other hand, maybe the Trickster _made_ it that way just because he loves it when people die."

"I guess we'll never know," said Arthur.

"Fern, you know what you have to do," said Alan earnestly. "We can't risk letting the Entangler fall into the wrong hands. The moment you arrive in your own universe, _destroy it_."

A painful silence followed as Fern breathed in deeply to speak.

"I'm…not going back," she announced. Every eye in the room widened.

"You're staying _here?_ With _us?_" said Mrs. Walters with joy. "Please, let it be true!"

Fern nodded weakly. "There's nothing left for me there. My parents are gone…_Alan_ is gone."

"What do you mean?" said Binky sharply. "You've still got the Resistance."

"I'm just a little girl, Binky," said Fern, her tone devoid of hope. "I have nothing to offer the Resistance. I'd only get in their way."

"Hold on a minute," said Alan, gazing anxiously at her. "The way you just said my name…like it has a special meaning to you…"

Fern put on a sheepish look. "You don't suppose…" said Arthur, who was obviously supposing.

"If it's embarrassing, you don't have to tell me," said the bear boy.

"No, I'll tell you," said Fern with heightened confidence. "Alan…the _other_ Alan…was my boyfriend."

Arthur and Binky appeared as if they were taking part in a jaw-dropping contest. Alan, remarkably, didn't look surprised.

"The relationship went south after the Yordies took over," Fern went on. "He spent most of his time at home, reading books, doing puzzles, and watching Animal Planet. Whenever I invited him to go somewhere, he said, 'What's the point of leaving the house? I'll only be reminded of my lost freedom.'"

"Honestly?" said Alan, astonished. "_I_ was like that?"

"Alan," said Fern seriously, "even though you're not really _my_ Alan, and I'm not really _your_ Fern, we still have a lot in common. I think we could be great friends, or even…"

By this time Alan was lost in deep thought. _What if I was wrong? Fern's death convinced me that I was fated to marry D.W., but now there's another Fern, sitting there right before my eyes…_

"Uh, Alan?" said Arthur, taken aback by Alan's glazed look.

"Alan, this is Starbase 1," said Binky. "Come in, Alan. Over."

"Of course, you probably still think of me as a friend who came back from the dead," said Fern. "You don't have to consider it if you don't want to."

"I _am_ considering it," was all Alan had to say.

* * *

The boys went their separate ways, Fern staying behind out of fear that the neighborhood would be shocked by her apparent resurrection. The poodle girl, still haunted by thoughts of her parents' fate, tried to calm herself by watching TV.

"Ever throw a house party and invite all your friends only to discover, too late, that you're out of wax fruit? Introducing the Instant Fruit Waxer! Turn your ordinary apples, oranges, and bananas into totally fun, totally inedible wax fruit! You can even turn your obnoxious in-laws into statues! Order now, and we'll send you _two_ Instant Fruit Waxers instead of one! But wait, there's more!"

"These commercials are so incredibly annoying," remarked Mrs. Walters.

"You think _that's_ bad?" said Fern. "In _my_ universe, there's nothing left on TV but constant pledge drives."

"Pledge drives?" said the poodle woman, taken aback.

"Yeah, pledge drives," Fern continued. "That's where you stand up in front of your TV and _pledge_ allegiance to the Yordilian Republic. If enough people do it of their own free will, the Yordies won't have to declare martial law."

The doorbell rang, prompting Mrs. Walters to answer it. On the doorstep stood Muffy and Wyatt, who asked the same question in unison: "Is Fern home?"

"Yes," said the woman, a tear trickling down her fluffy cheek. "Fern _is_ home."

They nearly bowled Mrs. Walters over as they hurried to meet their friend. "I don't believe my eyes," said Wyatt, blinking wildly.

"Omigosh," said Fern. "Wyatt? What a surprise!"

"Tell me it's true," Muffy urged her. "Tell me you really _have_ decided to live in our dimension."

Fern nodded. "I'm not left with much of a choice."

Wyatt and Muffy landed on the couch at either side of her, barraging her with queries. "So you're another Fern from another universe," Wyatt marveled. "How did you get here? Did you take a spaceship?"

"Will you still go to Lakewood Elementary?" asked Muffy. "Will you and I still be BFFs?"

"Wait a minute, Muffy," Fern interrupted. "I've been meaning to ask you…_when_ did we become BFFs?"

"You know," said the monkey girl. "When Mr. Gelt tried to steal the dress I bought on the planet Orelob, but you rescued it from him."

Fern shot her a confused look. "I don't know any Mr. Gelt," she stated. "Muffy, that _didn't happen_ in my universe. In fact…"

"In fact _what?_" said Muffy, seeing that her floppy-eared friend was suddenly at a loss for words.

"I hate to be the one to tell you this, Muffy," said Fern in a somber tone. "In my universe, the whole Crosswire family's been missing since before the invasion."

"_Missing?_" said Muffy and Wyatt, both equally startled.

"Yes, missing," Fern went on. "Only the Nordgrens and their alien friend, Jenny, know where they've gone. Wherever they are, either they have no way of getting back to Earth, or they don't _want_ to come back. I can't really blame them. Who'd want to come home to a planet of slaves?"

"You don't mean that, Fern," said Muffy, apparently wounded. "My family, except maybe for my dad, is one million percent loyal to Earth. If they haven't returned, it's because they're helping to build a space armada to liberate your world."

"It's also possible," Wyatt chimed in, "that they went to a space mall and got lost."

"Don't be ridiculous, Wyatt," said Muffy. "You _can't_ get lost in a space mall—I know, because I tried once. No matter where I went, the information kiosks were like, 'Your parents are on Floor 2, Sector G. Your parents are in the West Elevator between Floors 2 and 3. Your parents are standing right behind you…'"

As the conversation continued, Wyatt expressed a desire to see the device that had enabled Fern to cross dimensions. The poodle girl finally yielded, pulling the engraved cube out of her pocket. "It's _so_ cool-looking," the poodle boy remarked.

"It's also deadly," Fern told him. "When you use it to go into another dimension, it automatically _kills_ your duplicate there. We didn't figure it out until Alan, Arthur, and Binky had already been disintegrated."

"That's wild," said Wyatt with awe. "So if I go through it, then my duplicate, even if he's on the other side of the world, just drops dead on the spot?"

"I'm afraid so," said Fern darkly. "And that's why it has to be destroyed."

"So why haven't you destroyed it yet?" asked Muffy.

Fern gazed at the Entangler. From Muffy's perspective, it was a look of longing, even lust. "I guess I haven't completely made up my mind," the poodle girl admitted.

* * *

To be continued


	23. Pokey in the Pokey

So insistent were Francine's pleas that Mr. Frensky finally agreed to let her visit Pokey in prison, but with one string attached. "_I'm_ going along with you," he stated.

"That'll be great," said Francine. "Let's go, Dad."

Frensky, controlling the steering wheel of his garbage truck with his one good hand, piloted his daughter to the county jail. Once there, the two were escorted by a guard through the shadowed passageway that led to Pokey's cell. Every sound, especially the clanking of iron doors, seemed to echo endlessly.

When Francine saw Pokey in a prison uniform, sitting lazily on a bench with nothing but a Bible to keep him company, she let out a happy squeal. "Pokey, it's me!" she announced. "I came!"

To her surprise, the dog-faced man averted his eyes. "I didn't want you to see me like this, Frankie," he said miserably.

"I hope you've learned your lesson, Polk," said Mr. Frensky, "because _I've_ certainly learned mine."

Pokey eyed him bashfully. "That's good," he responded. "At least _one_ of us profited from this mess."

Francine attempted to cling to the bars, but the guard gently pushed her back. "I know you've been going through hell, Pokey," she said eagerly. "Can I say that…'going through hell'?"

"Yes, Frankie," said Pokey, gradually closing his Bible. "Going through hell, and going _to_ hell."

"Don't say that," said Francine. "All the good you've done…not to mention, rescuing me from that kidnapper…it's got to count for _something_."

"You'd think that, wouldn't you?" said Pokey, the bitterness in his voice rising as he rose. "You'd think that God would remember the favors I've done him, and give me a little help when I need it the most."

Francine's face fell. She had no words for her friend.

"I killed a girl, Frankie," said Pokey, wrapping his hands around the iron bars. "I didn't mean to. It was just rotten luck for her and for me. She didn't deserve to die. I didn't deserve to be the instrument of her death. _No man_ deserves to be forced to watch the fear and horror on a little girl's face as she's crushed to death under his front bumper."

"I know," said Francine solemnly. "She was my friend."

"The moment it happened," Pokey went on, his eyes misty, "I felt…I _knew_ in my heart…that God was far, far away, maybe too far away to even _see_ what I had done. I began to realize that, after all my tears and prayers, after all the sackcloth and ashes, I'd only managed to get on God's list of people to _punish_."

"That's not true," said Francine, shaking her head. "God _cares_."

"He cares, does he?" said Pokey with disdain. "He's got a strange way of showing it."

"Well," said the girl with a shrug, "he works in mysterious ways sometimes."

"Mysterious ways?" Pokey scoffed. "You and your mysterious ways. Just admit that _you_ don't know the answer any more than _I_ do."

"All right," said Francine helpfully, "I don't."

"What about you, Frensky?" said Pokey, glaring at the man with the broken wrist. "Can _you_ explain why God promises happiness but delivers only cruelty?"

"You've mistaken me for a philosopher," said Mr. Frensky gruffly. "However, I know many Jews who have been put through the wringer…poverty, disease, violent crime…and their reaction was to abandon their faith entirely, and stop believing in the existence of God."

"Exactly," said Pokey. "A cruel God, or no God at all? Not much of a choice."

"I'm not saying I _recommend_ atheism," Frensky continued. "I mean, without God, nothing we do has any meaning…we may as well be a bunch of _animals_ running around."

* * *

To be continued


	24. Surprise Attack

"Shouldn't you be doing your homework, Arthur?" said Mrs. Read, her hands on her round hips.

The aardvark boy groaned as he lifted himself off the couch. "Haw haw!" said D.W. mockingly. "You have homework and I don't!"

"Someday," Arthur warned her, "you'll be my age, and you'll have just as much homework as I do."

"As if," said D.W. "On my seventh birthday I'm gonna eat green potato chips and die."

Moments after Arthur had retired to his room, Alan invited himself into the Read home. "Hi, D.W.," he greeted the little girl. "I know it's late, but I thought we could hang out a little, maybe play a little chess."

"Sure, I'd like that," said D.W.

For what seemed like an entire minute, Alan sat mutely on the couch next to her. "Well?" she said impatiently.

"D.W.," he said, picking his words carefully, "you _don't_ have to become a nerd just to copy me."

* * *

"You don't have to become a Christian just to copy me," said Pokey, facing his young friend Francine from inside a prison cell. "I'm a terrible example. If you're going to copy somebody, then why not Mother Teresa, or…or someone who's just like her, but alive?"

"Nobody's gonna copy anybody," said Mr. Frensky with a hint of anger.

* * *

"What if I _want_ to be a nerd?" said D.W., her arms folded.

"Then that's fine," replied Alan. "But how long will you be able to keep it up? You're just a six-year-old. A week from now you'll have forgotten all about being a nerd, and you'll be practicing to become something else, like a ballerina."

D.W. gazed at him with pathetically soulful eyes. "Why don't you want me to be a nerd, Alan?"

"It's not that I don't _want_ you to be a nerd," said the bear boy, the words coming slowly. "But…on the other hand…I don't _not_ want you to _not_ be a nerd. Does that make sense?"

"No," said the disappointed aardvark girl.

* * *

"I'm being released tomorrow," said Pokey. "After what I did, I'll probably get fired from my teaching job."

"Do you have anyone to go to for help?" Francine asked him. "Relatives? Your church?"

"My family disowned me a long time ago," the dog-faced man told her. "And my church? Everybody there is scraping by like I am."

"I don't know if there's anything _we_ can do," said Francine.

"No, there isn't," said her father with finality.

* * *

"Why did you want me to be a nerd in the first place, Alan?" D.W. pressed the boy.

Alan, unable to find a response, wished with all his heart that D.W.'s question, or D.W. herself, would simply disappear.

"It's because we're gonna get married in the future, isn't it?" said the little girl.

Her remark nearly blew Alan's brain out of his skull. "What…?" he stammered. "What do _you_ know about that?"

"Fern told me," said D.W., now sounding mature. "She told me how your son went back in time, and told you _I_ was his mother."

It seemed like hours to Alan before he regained his composure. "So…you _know_ about Jason," he marveled. "I had no idea."

"And it's cool, too," said D.W. with gusto. "Someday I'm gonna have a baby who can travel through time. I'm just like that lady from _The Terminator_."

"Uh, yeah," said Alan, feeling exceptionally awkward. "The funny thing is, even though you know that you and I are bound to get married, you've been treating me the same as always."

D.W. shrugged. "Why shouldn't I? It's, like, ten more years before we can even _date_. I didn't think about it _at all_ until you started pushing me to play chess with you."

Alan's next question caused him great consternation. "D.W.," he said meekly, "do you mind if I see other girls?"

The girl eyed him suspiciously for a second, then simply replied, "No."

"No, what?" said Alan. "No, you don't mind, or no, I can't see other girls?"

"No, I don't mind," was D.W.'s answer. "Do you mind if _I_ see other _boys?_"

"Of course not," replied Alan.

"Then it's agreed," said D.W. formally. "We have an open relationship."

* * *

Some time later, Mr. Walters responded to a ringing of the telephone. "Hello?"

"Hi, it's Alan," said a boy's voice. "Is Fern there?"

"Yes, she is," replied the poodle man. "I'll get her."

Setting down the receiver, he hurried to the open door of his daughter's bedroom, only to discover that no one was apparently there. "Fern?" he called out. "Fern, dear?"

There was no answer. Thinking the girl might have turned invisible, he stepped further inside, and a slip of paper atop the desk caught his eye. Turning it over, he gasped when he read the words:

_You've been very kind, but this fake life will never satisfy me. Love, Fern_

* * *

Fern was, at that very moment, knocking on the door of the Krantz residence. When the teacher with the broad antlers set eyes on her, she said, "Fern, it really _is_ you. Now that I see it, I believe it."

"I'm surprised to see _you_ alive, too," said the poodle girl. "Where's Sue Ellen? I need to talk to her right away."

"Come inside," said Mrs. Krantz.

The aforementioned cat girl was sitting in bed, laboring over a science paper about electric eels, when she heard a well-known voice yell, "Sue Ellen!"

She glanced up. "Huh? Is that you, Fern?"

"I'm invisible," the voice came again. "Can you find me?"

"You _bet_ I can," said Sue Ellen, leaping out of her bed with vigor.

The instant her toes touched the floor, however, her entire field of vision was suddenly filled with blue. _It's that gateway again!_ she thought, terror filling her soul. _I'm never going back to that place! Never!_

She turned around, trying to flee from the shimmering portal into the familiar recesses of her bedroom. She had only progressed two steps when a tall figure lurched out of the blue gate, wrapping one arm around her chest, and clamping a strong hand over her mouth…

* * *

To be continued


	25. One Sick Puppy

"Mom! Mom!" The frantic cry startled Mrs. Krantz, prompting her to leave the dishwasher half-emptied. She hurried in the direction of her adopted daughter's bedroom, only to collide with the terrified girl as she fled.

"What's wrong, Sue Ellen?" the moose woman inquired.

"I don't know how, or why," said the cat girl in a panicked, high-pitched voice, "but Zeke's dad just _attacked_ me!"

"He did _what?_" said Mrs. Krantz, now outraged. "How did he get inside the house? Are you _sure_ it was him?"

"It _was_ him, I swear," said Sue Ellen, clinging to the woman's hips. "First I heard Fern's voice, then the gateway to the other dimension appeared, then Zeke's dad grabbed me and dragged me through."

"Did he hurt you at all?" Mrs. Krantz inquired.

"No," was Sue Ellen's reply. "Once we were on the other side, he just let me go."

Mr. Krantz stepped into the scene, drawn by the shouting. "You say it was Zeke's father," he said curiously. "Was it Zeke's father from _our_ universe, or a copy of Zeke's father from the _parallel_ universe?"

"What difference does it make?" said his wife sharply.

"I'm a comic book fan," the moose man stated. "I _have_ to pay attention to such details."

Blocks away at the England home (some preferred to call it the England _compound_), the lady of the house heard the phone ring as she was changing her child's diaper. After quickly wiping her hands, she picked up the receiver and said, "Hello?"

"Mrs. England, this is Mrs. Krantz, your son's teacher," the voice spoke. "Would your husband happen to be home?"

"Yes, he is," replied the Pomeranian woman. "I'll fetch him right away."

Mrs. Krantz heard a second or two of silence on the line…followed by an unearthly scream.

* * *

As late as it was, Zeke's classmates didn't hesitate to congregate at the Chanel mansion, where the boy had been living. The pom lad sat on a leather chair, giving free rein to his tears, as Mickie made vain attempts to console him.

"My dad's dead," Zeke sobbed miserably. "He turned into a pillar of salt."

"There, there," said Mickie sweetly. "Here's a ten-dollar bill. Go buy yourself some ice cream."

Sue Ellen found herself surrounded by boys, though their purpose was far from romantic. "I can't imagine why the parallel-universe Mr. England is involved in this," said Alan to his companions.

"Neither can I," said Binky with a shrug. "Maybe he and Fern are friends in the other world."

"I doubt that," Sue Ellen chimed in. "One of his friends _shot_ at Fern right outside this house, remember?"

"Maybe he _stole_ the Entangler from Fern," Arthur theorized.

"They were working _together_," Sue Ellen insisted. "I _know_ I heard her voice."

"She promised to destroy it, yet, here we are," said Alan. "That's the last time I entrust a powerful and dangerous artifact to a _girl_."

"Hey, I resent that!" the cat girl snapped.

"Take it easy, Sue Ellen," said Binky facetiously. "He didn't know you were a girl when he said it."

"I just had an idea," said Arthur.

"What?" said Alan, Binky, and Sue Ellen in unison.

"Why would Mr. England drag Sue Ellen into the other dimension, just to let her go?" he asked hypothetically. "To me, it's pretty obvious."

"I'm not following you," said Binky.

"Do you remember who it was that snitched on Fern's parents, and sent them to their deaths?" the aardvark boy went on.

"I sure do," said Sue Ellen. "It was the other me…the _bad_ me."

"Of course!" said Alan, pounding his palm with his fist. "Good old-fashioned revenge. By bringing _our_ Sue Ellen into _her_ dimension, she was able to kill _her_ Sue Ellen without even having to touch her."

"I can't believe what I'm hearing!" exclaimed Binky, waving his hands to silence the others. "You're accusing Fern of _murder_."

For a second or two they silently stared at each other, astonished by Binky's remark.

Alan was the first to speak up. "Binky's got a point. It _is_ hard to believe that a nice girl like Fern would stoop so low. Let's remember, however, that in the world she comes from, she and others like her are fighting for their freedom against ruthless enemies. We don't know what kinds of moral compromises they've been forced to make. Add to that the shock of watching the execution of her parents on a YouTube video, and you've got yourself one _disturbed_ little poodle."

"She's one sick puppy," said Arthur. "Sorry, I just _had_ to say that."

"Okay, maybe she _has_ flipped," said Binky.

"We've got to help her," said Sue Ellen earnestly.

"I agree," said Alan. "But first we've got to _find_ her, and then we've got to _stop_ her, before more people die."

"Alan's right," said Binky.

"Easier said than done," Arthur put in. "You're talking about a girl who can turn invisible _and_ jump across dimensions."

"Come to think of it," said Alan, "it _does_ seem pretty hopeless."

"Alan's right," Binky repeated.

* * *

To be continued


	26. I'm Next!

A universe away, as night began to fall, Mr. England led Fern into an abandoned, decaying house in a neighborhood that had been converted into a factory. "What you're about to see is one of two secret stashes I've kept up," he told the girl. "This one's for weapons, and the other one's for food and vital supplies. When the Yordies showed up to confiscate my guns, I didn't have any, 'cause they were all _here_."

"You're pretty smart, Mr. England," remarked Fern.

"Not smart enough," admitted the Pomeranian man. "I thought I'd have to fight U.N. peacekeepers, but I got aliens instead."

The interior, filled from wall to wall with cobwebs, reminded Fern of the cellar of Grandma Tibble's house. Flashlight in hand, Mr. England showed her the way to a set of creaky stairs that descended into an unfinished (or rather _unstarted_, thought Fern) basement.

"I never imagined you and I would be on the same side," said Fern, pushing past several stacks of musty boxes. "But with my parents gone, the Resistance is all I have left."

Mr. England began to pull some loose bricks out of the wall, revealing empty space behind them. "You'll have your vengeance soon enough," he assured his young friend. "Killing the Armstrong girl was only a warm-up."

"Remember when you said I'd never hate the Yordies as much as you do?" said Fern, helpfully sliding some bricks to the side.

"Yes," said Mr. England with a chuckle. "I was wrong, wasn't I?"

Having made a gap in the wall large enough to crawl through, he allowed Fern to squeeze in first. "Is this a good time to tell you I've got claustrophobia?" said the girl anxiously as she crept along on her belly.

"Don't worry yourself," said Mr. England. "Thanks to your magic cube, we'll never have to take this route again."

Before long Fern discovered that she could safely stand. As light started to pour into the chamber, she beheld in awe that the crude walls were lined with every manner of firearm—rifles, shotguns, revolvers. "There must be _hundreds_," she marveled.

"Don't forget how many _enemies_ we have," said Mr. England, grunting as he rose to his feet. "Now, if you'll do the honors of activating the gateway, I'll start moving the Resistance's weapons cache to its new base of operations."

Entangler in hand, Fern called out, "_Zygote Zaire Zydeco_." The underground room became illuminated with blue light, and Mr. England began to load up his arms with guns and cases of ammunition. Disappearing through the portal, he returned empty-handed about thirty seconds later. He made four such trips before pausing to speak with Fern.

"I forgot to mention," he said, "that I've inducted a family of three into the Resistance. I believe they're people you know."

"Who are they?" Fern inquired.

"Does the name Wyatt Holberg ring a bell?" said Mr. England with a grin.

"You're kidding me!" Fern blurted out. "Wyatt and _both_ his moms? And you don't have a problem with them being gay?"

"Not anymore," said the pom man. "I've had to put aside some of my prejudices. Ever since the Yordies passed their law prohibiting homosexuality, gay people have been _flocking_ to our standard."

* * *

"Welcome to class, children," said Mrs. Krantz. "As the first order of business, I will now read the roll."

The kids became silent as statues. The moose woman gazed at the sheet in her hand for a long moment, and finally tossed it into a nearby trash receptacle. "To blazes with the roll," she said irritably. "I can see who's here and who's not. Binky, Francine, Arthur, Buster, Sue Ellen, Beat, George, Muffy, and Zeke are here. Fern is absent due to her untimely death. The problem is, she's not dead—I _saw_ her last night. Some of you tell me that a duplicate of Fern from a parallel Earth is walking among us. Just for today, I'm going to skip over the first period lesson so we can spend an hour trying to get the bottom of the question…_is_ Fern alive or _isn't_ she?"

Her pupils said nothing, apparently overcome by wonder.

"Okaaaay?" the teacher drawled.

"_I'd_ like an explanation too," Beat spoke up. "My classmates have been engaged in some sort of adventure, but _I've_ been left out of the loop, possibly because my fractured rib is limiting my mobility."

"Then I'll recap it for you," Arthur offered. "Parallel Fern—that's what I'll call her—has a device called a Quantum Entangler, which takes her back and forth between her universe and ours. The nasty thing about it is, if you use it to travel to a dimension where a duplicate of you exists, the duplicate is automatically _disintegrated_."

"Good gracious!" exclaimed Beat. "Is that how Zeke's father died?"

"My dad's dead!" cried Zeke, plunging his face into his hands.

"Yes, it is," Alan told the rabbit-aardvark girl. "And now both Parallel Fern and the Entangler are unaccounted for. Unless we find it and destroy it, more people from her side will come to our side, and more people on our side will die."

"That's bloody brilliant, Arthur," said Beat with a warm smile.

"_What's_ bloody brilliant?" asked the aardvark boy, taken aback.

"All of this will make an excellent premise for my mum's next fantasy novel," said Beat.

"Really," said Arthur impatiently. "And what sort of ending would your 'mum' write for it?"

"Knowing my mum," Beat replied, "she'd most likely write a _deus ex machina_ ending."

Arthur let out an exasperated sigh.

Muffy jumped into the conversation. "What's this Resistance that Parallel Fern always talked about?" she asked the others.

"They're a group of freedom fighters," Arthur informed her. "They're trying to overthrow the Yordilians. Fern's parents belonged to it."

"Who else belongs to it?" asked Muffy curiously.

"Possibly Zeke's dad," said Arthur.

"My dad's dead!" bawled Zeke.

"_Definitely_ Zeke's dad," said Sue Ellen. "C'mon. Zeke's dad would start a resistance movement if the phone company changed his area code."

"May I say something?" Mrs. Krantz chimed in. "Perhaps Fern intends to turn the device over to the Resistance for use as a weapon."

A hush fell over the classroom. "You know," said Binky, "we should involve the teacher in our planning sessions more often."

"That makes sense," said Arthur. "A Resistance member armed with the Entangler could pop in and pop out anywhere, using our dimension as an escape route."

"So logically," said George, "the people who are in the most danger of getting disintegrated, are the people whose duplicates are most likely to join the Resistance."

A quiet moment followed as the kids, and the teacher, considered themselves and their tendencies toward radicalism.

"I _thought_ about forming a resistance movement back when flashpants were going out of style," admitted Muffy.

Zeke turned a tearful pair of eyes to his classmates. "Don't you see?" he said unhappily. "If my dad's duplicate visited our universe, _my_ duplicate will want to visit it too. _I'm next!_"

* * *

To be continued


	27. The Hottie and the Rattie

When first period left out, Zeke was still gripped by fear. "Your friends are doing everything they can to save you from your dad's fate," Beat assured the pom lad. "You won't accomplish anything by panicking."

"I won't accomplish anything by _not_ panicking!" said Zeke, sweat clinging to his furry face. "What can my friends do? What can _anybody_ do against enemies that strike at us from another universe?"

"What does the Bible say?" said Beat with a hint of sarcasm.

"The Bible doesn't say _anything_," said Zeke nervously. "That's the scariest part."

Relatively unconcerned about the trans-dimensional threat was Buster, who instead focused on what appeared to be a newcomer to Lakewood Elementary. "Man, that's one dumpy lady," he remarked to Binky, who stood nearby. "I wonder who she is."

"Why don't you ask somebody?" the bulldog boy suggested. "Like _her?_"

"I'll do that," said Buster. He walked determinedly in the direction of the woman, who had bobbed, rather unruly hair that reached to her neck, and wore faded blue jeans that clashed with her faded green blouse. Worn-out sneakers and a pair of thick glasses completed her outfit. As Buster drew closer, the strange woman's pointed nose and sharp front teeth became increasingly familiar.

"Oh, hello," he said to the lady. "You must be related to Miss Ratburn."

"No, silly boy," she responded. "I'm Miss Ratburn herself."

Buster couldn't believe his long ears. "But you…you…" he stammered.

"It was _your_ idea, remember?" said Rodentia.

The rabbit boy strained to recall his most recent encounter with her…

_Yesterday_

"Are you trying to tell me that Scrunchy is _afraid_ of women?" said Rodentia to Buster and Jenna. "I find that hard to believe."

"It's only a theory," said the cat girl. "We haven't manufactured any evidence yet."

"The solution is obvious," said Buster sagely. "If you disguise yourself as a man, maybe Scrunchy will be more comfortable around you."

"That only works in Shakespeare," said the rat woman peevishly. "Besides, my gorgeous figure belongs to the ages. Why would I want to hide it?"

_Today_

"Then it occurred to me," Rodentia went on, "that maybe Scrunchy wasn't _afraid_ of women, but was _intimidated_ by them. Maybe he was too big and too awkward as a kid, and the girls rejected him as a result, so that _now_, whenever he sees a beautiful woman, he's terrified of getting hurt again."

"Uh, right," said Buster, scarcely paying attention. "Whatever you said."

"So I figured that if I made myself _less_ attractive, he might not feel so threatened," she concluded.

"But it's not gonna work," said Buster seriously. "Your curves are still showing. Scrunchy will _never_ mistake you for a man."

"That's not what I'm aiming for," said the frumpily-dressed rat woman, but Buster had already walked away.

Zeke, still frightened for his life, cornered Prunella as she was taking a fresh hair ribbon from her locker. "Hey, I hear you've got a magical unicorn horn," said the pom boy.

"Yeah, I do," said Prunella. "It's a three-wish horn, but I've already used up two wishes."

"I'm in a bind," said Zeke with desperation in his voice. "My duplicate from a parallel Earth is gonna land here at any time, and the moment he does, I'll be reduced to cinders like my dad was."

"Right," said the rat girl, nodding. "Alan told me everything."

"If it's not too much to ask," said Zeke, "I wonder if I could borrow your horn, just in case I need to, uh, _wish_ not to die."

Prunella felt compassion well up as she peered at the doleful boy. "You look like you need a wish more than I do," she said kindly. Reaching into the depths of her locker, she pulled out the spiral-shaped horn and placed it carefully in Zeke's palm.

"Thanks, Prunella," said Zeke with bright eyes. "God will remember this."

The boy scampered away. _That's a load off my mind_, she said to herself.

* * *

Children gawked at Rodentia wherever she went, as if mistaking her for a homeless woman in shabby clothes. _I hope this works_, she thought. Only a few yards ahead of her stood Mr. Haney, watching over the kids in the playground in case trouble should arise. On a bench next to the principal sat Richard Tulev, a.k.a. Scrunchy, who was responsible for watching over _him_.

Rodentia sucked in her breath as she prepared to sit. Scrunchy seemed to think nothing of her presence until the moment he recognized her. "Miss Ratburn?" he exclaimed with surprise.

"Yes, Richard," she said, grinning affectionately. "What do you think of my new look?"

The bodyguard suppressed incredulous laughter as he examined her. "It's terrible," he remarked simply.

The rat woman put on a wounded look. "You're right," she agreed. "What do you think I should change about it?"

Scrunchy became animated as he spoke. "Don't change a thing," he urged her. "I mean, you've got to have a reason for dressing like that. Maybe you're trying to express something."

"And maybe I'm not," said Rodentia, her hopes rising. "Maybe I just don't _care_ how I look anymore."

"That can't be it," said Scrunchy. "You're a very attractive woman, and you _should_ care about how you look."

_It's working_, she realized. _He's opening up to me._

"You really think I'm attractive?" she said with a sultry air.

"You're not just attractive," said Scrunchy earnestly. "You're _gorgeous_, and you deserve better than a bum like me."

_Bingo!_ thought Rodentia.

Ashamed by what he had said, the pig-faced man looked away sheepishly. "Don't be afraid," the woman reassured him. "In my eyes, you're no bum."

"You don't understand," said Scrunchy, his eyes moist. "I've thrown away my life. I was looking at a promising career as a wrestler, but I lost it all because I couldn't control my drinking. I coulda been a contender. I coulda been somebody, instead of a bum, which is what I am."

Rodentia looked at him with tenderness. _I can see this is going to take some time_, she thought.

"And there's something else," said the bodyguard. "Herbert and I only found out this morning…the government is altering our arrangement."

"Altering it?" asked Rodentia. "How?"

"They've decided that sending a man to keep an eye on him isn't enough," Scrunchy continued. "They're going to create a new identity for him. It's like the Witness Protection Program."

The rat woman's heart sank. "And…and what does Herbert think of this?"

"He's going along with it," replied Scrunchy. "By the end of this week Herbert Haney will no longer exist, and Lakewood Elementary will be without a principal."

* * *

To be continued


	28. Sneak Peek

When Buster next saw Miss Ratburn, he could tell, even through the Coke-bottle glasses she was wearing, that pain was abundant in her eyes. "Well?" he asked eagerly. "Was I right? Is Scrunchy afraid of women?"

"Yes," replied the rat woman in a weak, sad voice. "Terrified."

She hurried on to the teacher's lounge, leaving Buster to consider what he had been told. _A big, strong guy like him, afraid of women? How the heck did he get that way?_

He imagined a fifth-grade version of Scrunchy, tall for his age, approached by a diminutive girl named Rodentia. "I love you Richard," said the girl sweetly. "Will you kiss me, please?"

"Ewww!" said the young Scrunchy, grimacing with horror. "I'm not gonna kiss a _girl_. Girls are gross and icky and have cooties and body parts that do weird things and…"

Buster's fantasy sequence was cut short by the sudden realization that he was imagining _himself_. _Am I really like that?_ he wondered. _Am I gonna grow up to be just like Scrunchy, only with asthma instead of muscles? Never! I'm not afraid of girls, and I'm gonna prove it by kissing a girl…right this very minute!_

Seeing Jenna closing her locker, Buster ran towards the girl and blocked her path. "Hey, Jenna," he said with enthusiasm. "I wonder if you could do me a favor."

"Name it," said the cat girl.

Buster drew in a deep, anxious breath. "Kiss me."

Jenna's eyes grew wide enough to eclipse the sun. "You…you want _me_ to kiss _you?_"

"Yeah," said the rabbit boy, nodding.

"Well, okay," she said. "You asked for it."

Jenna leaned over on her toes, her lips jutting out. Before long her face was all Buster could see. He felt a twinge of panic, quickly followed by a burst of irresistible horror…

…and the next thing he knew, he was cowering against the wall of the boys' room.

He took a few puffs from his inhaler to ease his labored breath. _What happened?_ he asked himself. _I don't even remember how I got here. Did I kiss Jenna or didn't I?_

* * *

The school day ended, and the kids were no closer to a strategy for defending against Fern's trans-dimensional incursions. They could only wish for the best, or, in Zeke's case, _pray_ for the best.

Misty Holberg stopped at the school in her hybrid sedan to pick up Muffy, who was delighted to be in the back seat with her good friend Wyatt once more. "Guess where we're going after dinner," the poodle boy teased her.

"Uh, don't tell me," said the monkey girl as she buckled herself in. "Shopping?"

"That's right," said Wyatt. "We didn't drop last time, so we're going again."

"That's great," said Muffy. "And what about dinner?"

"We're having dinner at Earth Goddess Café again," Misty told her.

"Ugh," said Muffy with displeasure. "That vegetable pot pie was _so_ bland."

"All you had to do was ask the server for more fresh-ground saffron, Muffy," said Misty.

As they began to drive through Wyatt's neighborhood, Muffy asked the driver, "I don't mean to pry, but was your family offended by your decision to live with Sadie?"

"Were they _ever_," Misty replied. "Especially my father. He couldn't stop saying, 'She's an aardvark and you're a poodle! _She's an aardvark and you're a poodle!_'"

* * *

"Kiss me," Buster urged the girl. "I know you've been wanting to for a long time."

"Silly goose," said Beat scoldingly. "You know that if I kiss you here, in full view of the neighbors, I'll be in hot water with my parents. And besides, aren't girls weird and icky, as you continually point out?"

"I love you, Beat," said Buster flatly.

The rabbit-aardvark girl paused to reflect on her friend's words. _It's the most impossible thing I've ever heard_, she thought. _It's also the most wonderful!_

Unable to restrain her emotions, she threw her arms open wide and exclaimed, "Kiss me, Buster!"

Rather than kiss her, however, Buster screamed and ran away as if pursued by the very Devil.

_It's no use_, he thought, his thoughts barely managing to keep up with him. _I can't bring myself to kiss a girl! What's happened to me?_

* * *

In Parallel Fern's universe, the girl chose to lay low at Mr. England's house, afraid she would be detected by Yordilian police if she returned to the place where her parents had lived. She found little to do there except read religious books, which were plentiful on the shelves.

"Mr. England," she asked the pom man, "tell me again why you don't have a TV."

He replied without hesitation, "Television is a conduit for the influence of Satan."

"Oh, puh-leeze," said Fern unbelievingly. "That show with the Kardashians isn't the _only_ thing on, you know."

Bored beyond measure, she rested her head on the ragged old chair and started to doze off…until a rapping on the door aroused her. "It's the secret knock!" exclaimed Mr. England, hurrying to answer.

To Fern's surprise and delight, none other than Wyatt Holberg strolled inside. "Hi, Wyatt," she greeted the lad. "What's up?"

"Hi, Fern," said Wyatt, looking back and forth furtively between her and Mr. England. "My moms don't know I'm here. Whatever you do, _don't tell them_."

"Mum's the word," said Fern as she stood. "What brings you here? Family problems?"

"No," said Wyatt earnestly. "I'm…I'm _afraid_, Fern. The prospect of going into another dimension scares the heck out of me."

"Trust me," said Fern comfortingly, "it's a lot safer than the one we're in."

"I _want_ to trust you," said Wyatt, his voice pained, "but living under the Yordies has made me distrustful of everyone and everything. If you don't object, I'd like to…I'd like to take a sneak peak at this parallel universe of yours."

While the other Wyatt shopped and laughed with Muffy at Katzenellenbogan Mall, Fern whipped the Quantum Entangler out of her dress pocket. "You _could_ just wait an hour and go through with the others," she said quietly.

"I suppose I could," said Wyatt, "but I'm really, _really_ antsy to see it for myself beforehand."

Fern thought for a second. "Oh, very well," she finally said. Firmly squeezing the Entangler between her fingers, she tried to come up with three more words that started with the letter Z.

* * *

To be continued


	29. Message in a Bottle

"In 1968," Muffy recited, "Katzenellenbogan Mall was transformed into a movie set for the filming of the horror classic, _Day of the Walking Dead_. The director, George Remora, intended the film as a vehicle to comment on the mindlessness of the American consumer culture. The subtle comparison of shoppers to zombies was mostly lost on horror fans, who seemed more attracted to the blood and gore on the screen."

"That's so cool," remarked Wyatt. "I wish I'd been around in 1968, so I could be a zombie and appear in the movie. I'd be famous!"

"Famous for being a zombie?" said Muffy, strolling past the many shops at Wyatt's side. "I don't think so. Zombies are basically anonymous. You can't really tell one from another."

At that moment, in the other universe (heretofore called Universe B), the duplicate Wyatt stood and gazed pensively at the shining blue gateway before him. His fingers, hidden in the pockets of his jacket, made deft, hardly perceivable motions.

"What are you waiting for?" Parallel Fern asked him.

"Is it true," said Parallel Wyatt nervously, "that there's another _me_ in your parallel universe, and the moment I step through the portal, he'll drop dead?"

"Presumably," said Fern coldly. "If you can't accept that, you're welcome to stay behind and try to live as a gay person under the Yordies."

In Universe A, Muffy and Wyatt were playfully honing their zombie impersonations. "Must…buy…shoes," moaned Wyatt, lurching about with his arms forward. "Can't…have…too…many…shoes."

"Hold up, Wyatt," said Muffy, responding to a beeping noise from her dress. "I've got a text message."

_Universe B_

Wyatt hadn't moved from his statue-like position next to the interdimensional gateway. "I'm…not so sure…about this…after all," he muttered.

"It's your choice," said Fern. "The Resistance will soldier on without you."

_Universe A_

Muffy couldn't make sense of what she saw on the display. "Omigosh, Wyatt," she marveled. "This message is from _you_."

"From _me?_" said the startled poodle boy. "That's impossible. I left my phone at home."

As Muffy's eyes scanned the words that scrolled past, her jaw fell further and further.

RESISTANCE TO ENTER YOUR DIMENSION

6 PM

ELBERT ENGLAND HOUSE

WARN POLICE

She pulled up the message again to make sure she hadn't misunderstood its contents. "6 P.M.," she whispered to herself. "That's only an hour away."

"What's it about?" Wyatt pressed her. "What did I write?"

"I can't believe it, Wyatt," said the awestruck Muffy. "This message isn't from you…it's from a _parallel_ you, in another dimension."

"Huh?" said Wyatt, befuddled. "What are you talking about?"

Muffy closed her phone and put on a determined scowl. "Grab your bags, Wyatt," she ordered. "We've got less than an hour to save gosh knows how many lives."

* * *

To be continued


	30. Into the Blue

Clenching her phone in her sweaty hand, Muffy made one call after another as she and Wyatt bolted for the parking lot. Continuing her campaign as she leaped into Misty's car, she had very little to say to the woman.

_Zeke_

"Zeke, this is Muffy. I just received a message from a friend in the parallel universe, warning us that the Resistance will try to enter our world at six o'clock, at your parents' house. So drop everything and be there!"

"You bet I will," was Zeke's reply. "And I'll bring Prunella's horn, in case I need it."

_Alan_

"Alan, it's Muffy. Wyatt's duplicate in the parallel universe just warned me that the Resistance will try to enter our world at six o'clock, at Zeke's parents' house. I think you'd better be there."

"You can count on me, Muffy," said the bear boy.

_Binky_

"Binky, it's Muffy. Wyatt's duplicate in the parallel…"

"Yeah, I know," said Binky. "I'm with Alan. We're on our way."

_Arthur_

"Arthur, did Alan or Binky give you the message?"

"Yup. We'll be there."

_Sue Ellen_

"Sue Ellen, it's me, Muffy. I just received a warning that the Resistance will try to enter our world at 6 p.m., at Zeke's parents' house."

"Leave me out of this, Muffy," the cat girl replied. "Not even the end of the world could drag me back into that awful dimension."

"But," pleaded Muffy, "you're one of the only people who can go there safely, since your duplicate is already dead."

"Good luck, Muffy," said Sue Ellen, hanging up.

_Francine_

beep beep beep beep beep

"It was good that you mentioned Mother Teresa, because I did a little reading about her, and apparently _she_ went through some dark times when she felt like God wasn't there. You know what she did, Pokey? She just kept plugging away. I guess that's the only answer I can give you—_keep plugging away_."

beep beep beep beep beep

_The police_

"Let me see if I'm getting this right," said Officer Pinsky. "A group of freedom fighters from another dimension is about to jump into _our_ dimension, and the moment they do, every one of their alternate versions in this dimension will immediately drop dead."

"I couldn't have summarized it better myself," said Muffy.

click buzzzzzzzzz

"Hello? Officer? Hello?"

Muffy and Wyatt arrived at the England residence first, Misty waving farewell from the car as they ran through the unkempt lawn. The two guard dogs barked, snapped, and tugged against their chains, but the duo paid them no heed. Mrs. England was a bit shocked at their appearance, as they hadn't bothered to knock.

"Don't be alarmed, Mrs. England," said Muffy to the pom woman. "We're friends of Zeke, and he'll be here soon, too."

"I recognize you," said Mrs. England. "You know that Zeke's supposed to be living with the Chanels, right?"

"Yes, ma'am," said Muffy, "but this is an emergency…a _dire_ emergency. Lives are at stake. Many lives. _Yours_."

"What's this all about?" the woman asked impatiently.

Muffy took a seat with Wyatt before starting to explain. "We know what killed your husband," she stated. "There's a device that lets people travel between one dimension and another, and it's in the hands of a resistance group that's trying to liberate a parallel Earth from the aliens that conquered it. This device has a bad side—when you use it to enter another dimension where a copy of you exists, the copy _dies_. One of the members of the resistance group is a duplicate of your husband. He used the device to visit our dimension, at the exact moment that Mr. England was vaporized."

The pom woman shook her head, apparently having understood nothing.

"At exactly six o'clock, the _rest_ of this resistance group is going to jump from their dimension to ours," Muffy went on. "And you can be sure that their Mr. England is going to bring his whole family with him. And what does that mean? It means _you_ will die. _Zeke_ will die. _All_ your children will die. Can I be any plainer?"

"So what you're trying to tell me is," said Mrs. England, "that my entire family is in mortal danger."

"You've got it!" cheered Muffy.

Zeke appeared after a few minutes, followed shortly after by the trio of Arthur, Alan, and Binky. Mrs. England, seeing that her living room was crowded with kids, crept away to tend her baby.

"Arthur, Binky, and I should be the only ones to go through the gateway, since we've been through before," Alan proposed. "Once we're there, we'll try to reason with Fern and the Resistance leaders."

"And what if they don't listen?" Wyatt chimed in.

"Then we turn to Plan B," was Alan's reply.

"What's Plan B?" asked Arthur.

"What was Plan A?" asked Binky.

"Is this where my magic unicorn horn comes in?" said Zeke, waving the pointed object in his hand.

"For your information," said Arthur, "wishing on the unicorn horn only affects the person who makes the wish. You can wish to make yourself younger, thinner, or better-looking, but you _can't_ turn back the Resistance."

"Oh, _now_ someone tells me," Zeke groaned.

"I'm waiting to hear Plan B," said Muffy, her arms folded.

"Plan B," said Alan, "is to put on sheets, run through the portal with our arms waving, and _scare_ the Resistance away."

Muffy started to laugh. "That's crazy!" she said as she clutched her sides.

"Do you have any _better_ ideas?" said Alan sharply.

The kids all fell silent. As they exercised their brains, an odd blue glow could suddenly be seen through one of the windows.

Alan jumped to his feet. "It's the portal!" he cried out. The others raced to the window, caught glimpses of the phenomenon, and concluded that he was correct.

"They'll start coming out at any moment," said Arthur tensely. "And when they do, people will drop like flies!"

"How do we stop them?" cried Muffy.

"I'm scared," said Wyatt, turning to the bulldog boy. "Binky, hold me!"

"Hold _yourself_," Binky snapped.

"Arthur! Binky!" shouted Alan with a wave of his arm. "Let's go! _Now!_"

United in purpose, the three boys threw open the back door so forcefully that it nearly flew off its hinges. Nothing distracted them as they ran across the lawn toward the blue gateway and bounded inside, disappearing from the sight of their friends…

* * *

To be continued


	31. Resisting the Resistance

Arthur was looking at the backside of the England house. Alan was looking at an orderly horde of desperate-looking people, some carrying arms, some very familiar. Binky was looking at something in between.

"Good God," Alan muttered. The massive crowd reached to the edges of the property. The entire England family was at the forefront, as were Molly and the McDonald family, Mr. Ratburn and his pregnant wife Carla, Marina Messersmith and her parents, the Very Mean Crossing Guard, and Mavis' family, the Cutlers.

The Entangler sat in Fern's hands, generating waves that constantly refreshed the portal. "Well, well," said the poodle girl when she saw the three boys. "We've got a welcoming committee."

"If you're here to stop us, you're wasting your time," said Mr. England, his glare like a knife.

Alan prayed for some effective words as he walked up to Fern, whose pupils had apparently been replaced with little balls of anger. "Listen to me," he said gently. "If you go through with this, you'll kill hundreds of people. The Fern _I_ know, the Fern who is _my friend_, would never do such a thing."

She only smirked. "Hundreds of lives in _your_ world won't be missed much," she said, her voice icy. "Hundreds of lives in _our_ world will make the difference between freedom and eternal slavery."

Alan, taken aback by Fern's heartlessness, yielded the floor to Arthur. "It's great that you're fighting to get your freedom back," said the aardvark boy, "but you can keep your fight to your own dimension. _Our_ dimension belongs to _us_."

"It's too late for that," said Fern, not budging from her spot. "The Peace Enforcers know about our gathering. They'll be here any minute. Unless we escape to your dimension, the Resistance _dies here_."

Arthur and Alan exchanged helpless glances. "Now _there's_ a fine kettle of fish," Alan remarked. "Either _they_ die, or hundreds of _our_ people die."

"We don't have time for this!" bellowed Mr. England, raising his shotgun into the air. "Ignore those boys and _move out!_"

"And no time to make a decision," said Arthur to Alan.

Binky, running up to the boys, said, "Please, _please_ tell me you've thought of something. Molly, Mavis, Marina…they're all about to become talcum powder!"

"Wait," said Fern, motioning for the crowd to stand still. "It's a _good_ thing Alan, Binky, and Arthur are here. They can take the places of the ones who were killed. _Grab them!_"

A sea of arms reached out to take hold of the three boys.

_So much for Plan A_, thought Alan. Narrowly evading the clutches of the Very Mean Crossing Guard, he made haste for the only safe destination in sight, the gateway. The boy disappeared into the blue as four determined Resistance members pursued him.

"Don't just stand there!" one of them said to the others. "Go in after him!"

They readied themselves to do so…when Binky came charging at them, striking the hip of the nearest with his shoulder. The force of the blow sent all four sprawling to the ground. "Arthur!" cried Binky, gesturing at the bespectacled boy. "Here's your chance! _Go!_"

Quick footwork enabled Arthur to escape, but Binky wasn't so lucky, as he was in turn tackled by Mr. England and knocked to the dirt.

By the time Alan and Arthur plunged forward out of the gateway, their friends Zeke, Muffy, and Wyatt were already holding vigil. "What happened?" Muffy asked the boys.

Alan leaped to his feet and brushed the grass from his sweater. "It's no good," he said dismally. "They're coming. Hundreds of them."

"And it looks like they've got Binky," Arthur added.

"We need a plan B," said Alan firmly, "or we're going to lose a _lot_ of people we know."

"How much time do we have?" Wyatt asked him.

"_None_," was Alan's simple reply.

"Then it's up to me," said Zeke, lifting the unicorn horn with the point upward.

"Be careful with that thing!" Arthur warned him.

"Tell me," said Zeke with confidence, "what one person does the Resistance fear more than any other?"

"That's easy," replied Alan. "Chernobila, the head of the Department of Peace Enforcement. But…"

Zeke didn't waste a nanosecond. "_I wish I was Chernobila, the head of the Department of Peace Enforcement!_"

The scene that followed far exceeded in strangeness anything that Alan, Arthur, Muffy, or Wyatt had ever witnessed. Zeke's limbs grew longer. His torso expanded. His chest changed shape. His hair turned red and formed curls. His sweater and jeans morphed into a white uniform.

Standing tall in front of the other kids was a red-haired, full-figured cat woman wearing the uniform of a Yordilian soldier.

Zeke, sensing that nothing about his body was familiar anymore, looked downward and gasped. "What the…?" he exploded. "Chernobila's a _woman?_"

"Get in there!" Alan shouted at _her_.

Summoning courage and trying hard to ignore how different he felt, Zeke charged forward on long, powerful legs, vanishing into the blue barrier. His feet made contact with the same piece of land, but in a new and frightening environment. The Resistance members had formed a queue both long and wide, preparing for their exodus to the new world, and Binky was being held fast around the upper arms by Mr. England.

"Oh, my God," said Mavis' mother, Mrs. Cutler. "It can't be _her!_"

"It's a trap!" exclaimed Mr. Ratburn.

Seeing that his ruse was starting to work, Zeke put on a show. "I am Chernobila!" he exclaimed, raising his long arms for emphasis. "Throw down your weapons and surrender! You're all under arrest!"

"There's no hope for us now," lamented Molly's father. "We'd better do what she says."

"I am Chernobila, head of the Department of Peace Enforcement!" Zeke gloated. "Resistance is useless!"

"Wait just a _minute_," said the observant Mr. England. "Why is Chernobila alone? And _unarmed?_"

Murmurs spread through the crowd of resisters. "He's right!" "She's totally defenseless!" "What are we afraid of?"

"Kill her!" shouted a woman who carried a rifle over her shoulder.

"No, _don't_ kill her!" exclaimed a nearby man. "She's more valuable as a hostage!"

_Oh, snap, I'm gonna die_, thought Zeke as the furious Resistance members raised their hands to accost him. _I wonder if Chernobila's sins will be counted against me._

The blows came, and they came quick and hard. Mr. Ratburn was first, with a right hook that seemed to knock Zeke's newly formed cat nose out of joint. Mr. McDonald followed with a punch to the Yordilian woman's solar plexus. "I'm not who you think I am!" cried Zeke, but the only response was a fist colliding with his cheek.

"Let _me_ have a whack at her!" said Mr. England, loosening his grip on Binky's arms. The bulldog boy, noticing that Fern had moved in front of the gateway for a better viewpoint of Chernobila's battering, saw his chance at victory. Yanking himself away from the pom man's hold, he charged with all his speed and might directly at Fern, lunging at her midsection like a football tackler.

Binky and Fern rolled out of the opposite end of the portal, a mass of arms and legs. The Entangler fell from Fern's hand into the unruly grass, but continued to energize the blue gateway with its rays. Alan pounced like a panther, snatching up the artifact before Fern's grasping fingers could retrieve it.

Standing before his friends, he held up the Entangler in his palm and announced, "This ends _now!_"

"Alan, _no!_" Fern cried frantically. "Give it back!" She attempted repeatedly to jump after the device, but Binky's bulky arms prevented her.

"Don't destroy it!" shouted Muffy. "Zeke's still on the other side!"

"What…?" said Binky, surprised. "I didn't see Zeke."

"He turned into Chernobila," Arthur told him.

Binky reflected. "Omigosh," he blurted out. "They'll tear him limb from limb! Someone's got to go back for him!"

"There's nothing we can do," said Alan calmly. "Zeke will understand."

"Are you _crazy?_" exclaimed Arthur.

"You can't just _leave_ him there!" cried Muffy.

"Don't do it!" shrieked Fern. "I'll hate you for the rest of my life!"

Indifferent to their pleas, Alan laid the Quantum Entangler atop a nearby stone, and raised his foot to crush it….

* * *

To be continued


	32. Adjustments Must Be Made

Alan's foot came down and, to the disbelief and horror of everyone, smashed the Entangler into dusty metallic fragments.

The blue gateway started to blink and dissolve.

Zeke, in the form of Chernobila, came hurtling through it.

The blue gateway vanished completely.

A wave of relief washed over Alan when he saw that Zeke had returned. _We did it, and we didn't lose anybody_, he marveled.

Fern was livid. "Now the Resistance will _die_ because of you! I hate you, Alan Powers! I hate you! _I hate you!_"

Arthur, Binky, Muffy, and Wyatt gathered around the kneeling Zeke, whose altered face was covered with bruises and blood. "Tell Fern not to worry," he said in a soft female voice. "The Resistance isn't gonna die."

Fern's ears perked up, and she stopped struggling. "What'd she say?"

"How do you know that?" Wyatt inquired of Zeke.

"And another thing," added Arthur. "How'd you get away?"

"Be patient," said the red-headed cat woman, running a hand over her sore jaw. "There was…there was a Resistance member with a police scanner, listening in on Yordilian radio transmissions. He heard the Yordilians say that Chernobila had just been assassinated, and that the report of a Resistance meeting at my house was a distraction. He told the other Resistance members that I was an impostor, and they should let me go. So, here I am, and the Peace Enforcers aren't gonna destroy the Resistance after all."

"What a coincidence," said the awestruck Muffy. "You went through the portal as Chernobila, and the _real_ Chernobila was killed, at the exact same time."

"No coincidence," Arthur realized. "Zeke _is_ Chernobila. The Entangler killed her."

Tears gushed down Fern's cheeks as Binky released her. "So the Resistance is safe?" she said pleadingly.

"Looks like it," said Zeke. "The Yordilians only care about the assassination now."

"You," said Alan, confronting Fern, "should be ashamed of what you tried to do."

"Whatever I did, I did it for the cause of freedom," said the poodle girl defiantly.

"There _is_ no cause of freedom," Alan lectured her. "There's no Resistance. There are no Yordies. As far as you're concerned, that world no longer exists, and unless you find another Entangler, it will never exist again."

Fern pouted bitterly. "Okay, Alan," she said with resignation. "You win."

Zeke, unsure of his footing, braced himself on the children as they helped him to a chair inside. "I don't know how it's possible," said the pom-boy-turned-cat-woman, "but I feel even _weirder_ now."

"Gosh, I can't imagine what it's like for you," said Muffy, "growing up in the blink of an eye like that."

"Not to mention turning into a _female_," Binky added.

"If only it had been _me_ with that horn," said Wyatt disappointedly.

"Don't make a big deal about it," said Zeke/Chernobila. "All I have to do is find another unicorn horn and wish myself back to the way I was."

"Uh, that could be a problem," said Arthur. "You see, we don't _know_ where to find another unicorn horn."

"And we can't just ask the unicorns to part with one of their horns," said Muffy. "They're an endangered species as it is."

Zeke glanced around at his friends, seeing nothing but blank gazes. "Stop joking with me, okay?" he said harshly. "I can't go to school looking like this. I can't even go to the _bathroom_ looking like this."

"Face it, Zeke," said Arthur. "You're stuck. You made your bed, and now you have to lie in it."

He could see panic building up in the cat woman's green eyes. "You mean…I'm gonna be like this _forever?_" she wailed.

"Probably, yes," replied Muffy. "But with a friend like me, you'll learn the ropes quickly. What do you think, Wyatt? A red flannel dress to match her red hair?"

"I'd go with brown," said the poodle boy.

"And another thing," Muffy went on. "The name. Zeke. Ezekiel. Not remotely feminine. Ez…Ez…_Esmeralda_. It's _perfect_."

"Call me whatever you want," said Zeke/Chernobila. "I'm too tired and confused to argue."

_The following Monday_

The school day began with a public service announcement. "A student assembly will be held in the auditorium during second period," uttered Rodentia Ratburn's voice. "We will take that opportunity to introduce you to Lakewood Elementary's new principal, Jim Polk."

"_Yeeeess!_" said Francine, pumping her fist in the air.

"You _know_ this guy?" said George, surprised at her enthusiasm.

"I sure do," Francine replied. "He broke my dad's wrist in a fight, so you'd better not mess with him."

"We all wish the best to our new principal," said Mrs. Krantz as she prepared to call the roll. Clark Philip Barnes?"

"Here," said Binky.

"Buster Cletus Baxter."

"Here," said Buster.

"Mary Alice Crosswire."

"Here," said Muffy.

"Francine Alice Frensky."

"Here," said Francine.

"Sue Ellen Krantz."

"Here," said Sue Ellen.

"George Nordgren."

"Here," said George.

"Arthur Timothy Read."

"Here," said Arthur.

"Beatrice Margaret Simon."

"Here," said Beat.

"Returning to us from the land of the dead, Fern May Walters."

"Hi, everyone," said Fern.

"And last but not least," Mrs. Krantz concluded, "our new remedial student, Esmeralda England."

All eyes turned to gaze at the cat woman with the flaming red hair, who had put on a brown dress for the school day. A special desk had been placed in the room to accommodate her height.

"Let's get started, okaaaay?" said the moose woman. "Open your history textbooks to page number…"

Esmeralda's hand went up. "Mrs. Krantz?"

"Yes, Esmeralda?" said the teacher.

"May I go to the bathroom and adjust my bra? It's really uncomfortable."

"No, you may not," said Mrs. Krantz.

* * *

THE END


End file.
